A matter of perception
by Kung-lou
Summary: An ancient prophecy, a rogue military arm and technological experiments of questionable ethics will all make for the biggest change the wizarding world has yet seen.
1. Lightening and Rain

Title: A matter of perception

Author name: Kunglou

Author email: AU

Rating: PG-13

Summary: An ancient prophecy, a rogue military arm and technological experiments of questionable ethics will all make for the biggest change the wizarding world has yet seen.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from the use of these characters.

Author notes: AU, OC Updated 20/05/07

**Chapter 1: Lightening and Rain**

_Beware the child of lightening for it is far easier to destroy than to_

_Create._

_He will be announced and marked with green thunder_

_His destiny will be to destroy and to unite_

_Creating from the ashes a sum greater than humanities destroyed parts_

_Beware the child of lightening for it is far easier to destroy than to_

_create._

The steady sound of rain pounding onto already soaked and sodden earth gradually intruded onto Harry's sleep deadened mind, causing him to become aware of the soaked hospital gown that clammily clung to his otherwise naked body. Broken masonry dug painfully into his spine through the threadbare and sodden cloth. It contrasted sharply with his normal waking habits, those where uncomfortable but rarely painful.

Filling his lungs with air that smelled strongly of damp earth, heavy rain seemed to have cleansed it of any dust or pollens, Harry reveled in the fresh breeze which tickled his face and angled the rainstorm. It was rare that he had the opportunity to enjoy the outdoors, raining or otherwise and he took pleasure in every second that he could enjoy it.

As his position, jammed between piles of rubble and over broken stonework, became increasingly uncomfortable, Harry tried to think about how he could have arrived at such a desolate and uncomfortable place. Maintaining his steady breathing and closed eyes he tried to reconcile his deadened muscles, overwhelming exhaustion and bruised bones with his location and strange clothing or lack there off.

A quick ordering of his thoughts allowed him to examine his last memories before he discovered himself, alone, injured, apparently abandoned and in great pain. With only the sharp rubble he lay on and the steady sound of rain to hint at his location he lacked even the barest clues to deduce his location, or the events that lead him here. Growing up he had always wondered what he had done to deserve his aunt and uncle and he constantly lived in hope that someone kind and loving would rescue him, perhaps even a previously lost relative.

However, over the last few years he had slowly come to the realization that he hadn't done anything and that the world was just cruel, no-one was coming for him and he had to make the best with the deck he had been dealt in life.

In his mind he could see the shades of red that adorned his uncle's face in great splotches and the deep purple that colored his neck. It was almost funny how he could gauge his uncle's temper and it's severity by the color of his face. That night had been particularly painful, his uncle had become a master at causing pain with the minimum of evidence to show for it over the years, and when Vernon had finished his painful beating Harry had been locked into the cupboard underneath the stairs, his room for the last nine years.

It was one of many such nights, but that one was particularly memorable, because it was the first time he had been able to determine the severity of his beating from the color of his uncle's face. It was also the last memory that he could remember before…nothing, he had woken up here, where ever he was.

Harry frowned at the blank hole in his mind. Focusing on the memory of his last beating for any kind of clue as to whether he could expect a further reckoning when he opened his eyes, he remembered that he had been particularly glad for the ancient mattress that had been wedged in his cupboard underneath the stairs when he had become too big for his crib. It had helped to muffle the moans of pain which stubbornly broke from his throat after his beating as it had numerous times in the based. It was a painful lesson to learn, to be quite after his beatings, and his uncle had enjoyed teaching it. He remembered nothing after that.

After what must have been almost an hour of hearing nothing but the steady beating of rain and weathering steadily more frequent hot and cold flushes, as his sodden gown became increasingly icy, he stirred trying to find a more comfortable position away from the wreckage jutting uncomfortably into his back. Harry doubted after so long of silence that anyone was around and so any movement or noise was unlikely to incite any more punishments, still caution had been beaten into him from a young age. Shifting carefully around his sore muscles and shivering limbs to find a more comfortable position, Harry jerked in shock as his hand found a shard of glass that easily and painfully cut into his palm.

"What the hell! Uncle Vernon must have been really mad to do something like this," Harry mumbled as he stared at his surroundings. He had always assumed that it would just be a matter of time before his uncle and aunt tried to dump him somewhere. Probably only after they had accidentally beaten him to death, it accounted for the gap in his memories at least, though he was a little disconcerted that he had misjudged his uncle's temper the last night he could remember. Since he had been forcibly trained to be silent Vernon rarely came for a second go at beating him, at least not on the same night.

Shaking the sudden picture of a man in combat fatigues pointing an automatic weapon in his face from his head he stood up unsteadily making his way slowly out of the wreckage. It must have been quite the impressive facility in its day, now however all that stood were scorched prefab concrete, entangled metallic framing and rubble. It looked like a cluster bomb had hit it, and recently, 'a perfect place to dump the body of an unwanted nephew' he thought bitterly.

Ignoring the feeling of unsteadiness and weakness, Harry started walking towards the edge of the ruins and tried to decide what to do. If as he suspected, his uncle had beat him to near death and dumped him to die, did he really want to return to Privat Drive? Where else was there, where else could he go if he didn't?

Although he had tried to make the most of the resources available to him around the house, he simply did not, at his age, know enough to survive on his own. 'Oh, there's the police and other non-governmental agencies I could go to,' he thought casually, not seriously considering it as a valid option. After all, from his experiences of authority, he would not trust them not to make his situation worse. 'Besides,' he thought sourly, 'Vernon is a fine example of authority and I don't need anymore of that kind of attention'

Harry stumbled as he pictured himself strapped into a bed with a number of men dressed in white coats leaning over him talking in mumbled voices. 'What was that,' he thought as the picture vanished like a half remembered dream, 'My aunt and uncle refused to even take me to a doctor let alone a hospital, even when Vernon cracked a rib and I was spitting up blood, must be an over active imagination.' He couldn't shake the thought that it was important however, especially when it came so soon after the image of the man with the gun.

Still, the hole in his mind was deeply concerning. Ever since he had started to order his mind, and constantly review his past experiences and memories, he had found it increasingly easy to remember things. Never had he felt such an absence, a hole, within his thoughts and it was deeply unsettling. He hadn't even thought it was possible for him to feel such a hole; it was almost like missing a limb.

Harry sighed in depressed defeat, he really did have nowhere else to go but back to his relatives, his youth would go against him in trying to live alone even if he did have the knowledge or resources, which of cause, he didn't. 'I never did worry about my age – it never really made any difference to my life anyway,' he thought bitterly as he remembered the beatings and the nights locked in the cupboard, they were remarkably similar. It was, he felt, a demonstration of his uncle's lack of creativity or original thought.

Struggling against exhaustion and pain, Harry slowly started in the direction he thought would lead him to people and thus back home, towards the faint sound of traffic he could faintly hear over the drumming of the rain. He doubted anyone would help him get back to his aunt and uncles home, no one had ever helped him with anything in his life. But, a busy road meant signage and he could find his own way, 'just like everything else in his life,' he thought with bitter resignation.

Straining with the weight of his water soaked gown in the unsteady and muddy ground, he just concentrated on putting one foot in front of another. His muscles felt like they would peel from his bones at any moment and he would have liked nothing more than to collapse in a ditch and die, but then, those bastards that called themselves his guardians would have won and he would have suffered much to spite them.

Exhausted as he was, Harry didn't even notice as he collapsed against the guard rail at the edge of the road or when a dark car pulled off the road to investigate what looked like a bruised and bloody eleven year old collapsed at the side of the road. His last thought was that he should be thankful that his uncle had restrained himself from doing anything too permanent or at least visible over the years, 'but then they were too intelligent for that – Bastards'.

* * *

"Damnedest case I've ever seen," Frank growled looking through the case file of the young boy resting beyond the one-way screen in the interrogation room. Cigarette smoke hung oppressively around him as he took another agitated puff. "His guardians report him missing after a home invasion gone sour and he turns up twelve months later, almost to the day wearing a torn and blood stained hospital gown and covered in old bruises. Very suspicious, are you sure this is the same boy?"

"Sure chief," slightly younger than the graying man beside him Daren still had a wealth of policing experience to draw upon. "Blood work came up clean – it's him alright, unless there's another missing relative of the same age and description that we don't know about. We never did get a recent photo from the guardians though. I almost had myself convinced that the fat bastards had made up the whole thing to cover a murder; guess I jumped the gun on that one."

"Mmpphh," Frank drew in another deep breath of the acrid smoke before exhaling in a sigh. "Abuse maybe, they had enough photos of their other boy and they never could satisfactorily explain where the boy stayed or where his things were, but he is clearly not dead. Still, wherever he was over the last year wasn't a holiday; does he still claim that he can't remember where he was?"

Frank shook his head in disappointment at Darren's expression, the mystery would remain unsolved it seemed. The boy was found and there was no clear evidence of criminal activity. With the caseload and funding situation being what it was today it was easier for everyone to believe that he had somehow injured himself or wondered off. No matter how unlikely that appeared – case closed.

"Have you contacted the Dursley's yet? I imagine you've already confirmed that they have legal guardianship?" He asked quietly, even though logically he knew the boy couldn't hear him through the one way glass. It seemed sad that the boy couldn't remember what happened to him over the past year, though hardly surprising. Kidnap victims far older that the little kid with the winning green eyes before him repressed their experiences of kidnappings, particularly disturbing ones. The brave little boy with the wild black hair and piercing green eyes had wormed his way into everyone's heart at the station and with clean dry clothes he even looked human.

"They'll pick him up tomorrow, said they couldn't get here sooner. Did anyone ask him about abuse? He shows classic symptoms and the X-rays showed up some past brakes, kid even broke a rib at some stage." It was almost a rhetorical question; the question of abuse was one of the first questions that would have been asked once he was cleaned up. Besides even he could see the wariness in the boy's eyes and the way he answered any question with apparent directness and lack of inflection or emotion. It was worrying. As was the lack of usual complaints he would have expected from a boy of his age, anyone could tell that he was in pain, a lot of it.

"I'm gonna look into it myself." Darren nodded at the gruff old man he wouldn't expect anything less, child abusers where the lowest form of scum and the boy sitting in the interrogation room, huddled beneath a blanket had been abused as sure as the sun set in his opinion.

"So where do you think he was all this time, that hospital gown could have come from anywhere and all the medical facilities are frequently checked for missing patients?"

Frank just shook his head, puffing on the roll of tobacco, he hated mysteries as much as his old partner did but this case at least, was closed. "I'm with you, too many damned unanswered question. Questions that I will see answered even if I have to work on my own time." The old man hawked and spat in the bin, expressing his disgust and helplessness at the situation. He would keep an eye on the boy and he knew Darren would put the word out as well.

Vernon Dursley may be an important man in and around Privat Drive but when he found proof that he had abused the kid – nothing would save him.

* * *

"Are you incompetent as well as stupid?" Standing in the middle of a lightly furnished office a middle aged man with grey edges in his hair yelled in anger, disbelief and amazement at three men standing defiantly in front of him. Each had a hardened appearance of a combat veteran who had survived too many years in the meat grinder.

The room was richly furnished, though not extravagantly; a large mahogany desk seemed to act as a barrier between the three men and the middle aged man who was currently raging at them. A small window created more shadows in the small office than it lightened and the walls were painted a neutral white and adorned with religious and historical paintings in gilded frames.

"Your telling me, that subject 001-C could have simply walked from the destroyed facility, and we not only had no way of stopping him but now, due to your ineptitude in basic security procedures but we now lack the ability to find and recover him." Standing in front of the rich mahogany desk, the hardened veterans were decked out in impressive black and gold trimmed uniforms. The middle aged man looked impotent before them until one caught a glimpse of his flashing eyes and whitened knuckles permanently burying any thought of impotence.

"Let me reiterate what you have all told me," he continued. His voice reduced from flashing anger to deadly calm in an instant, "a traitor who has now turned up dead is responsible for deleting irrecoverably all backup records that we had from facility XC-933." Once the three veterans nodded, not letting any trace of fear or apprehension show on their faces as the middle aged man continued.

"Then, before I was informed of a breach in security or the experiments with subject 001-C was halted, an explosion which completely destroyed facility XC-933 occurred killing the research team working on the project and destroying any evidence that we could have used to track our missing subject." He slowly rose from his chair in displeasure, emphasizing his point.

Not even a droplet of perspiration could be seen on the faces of the three men being reamed out like cadets, yet the tension in the air was thick enough to walk on. "The explosion somehow managed to momentarily scramble remote security Sir," one veteran bravely added casing the man to stalk from behind his desk to confront the three soldiers.

"Ahh yes, further evidence of your disgraceful incompetence. Find IT, and until you have provided me with a detailed report about what went wrong all work is to cease and records secured," he commanded dismissing the three soldiers as he collapsed into the chair behind his desk. He didn't watch as the hard faced men quietly exited his office and closed the door behind them.

"So, was I convincing," he asked with amusement, not even looking up from the paper work on his desk, all evidence of his earlier rage missing. The importance of the work he was doing was incredible and if he hadn't been the one to sabotage the program he would have been REALLY upset.

"Maybe a little too convincing, are you sure that they will be able to find him. We were very thorough," a heavily cloaked and masked figure purred from the corner of the room. Even the three combat veterans, who had been trained to spot and analyze even the smallest details would have missed the figure as he stepped from the shadowed corner.

"I see you're still underestimating my men, just as you underestimated the reaction between HIS magical core and the nanites," the man laughed swinging his chair around so he could look at the cloaked man in the corner. "I give them two years even without us interfering. Are you sure it will be enough? The child is still very young. Even with the treatment I have my doubts since it is still very experimental, as we have already seen. Even though that explosion was beneficial it was still unexpected. My men probably won't tell me but they still don't know what it was."

"Put all doubts aside old friend, he has already started to grow into the man he will become and by the time your men find him he will be ready to start fulfilling the destiny he was born for. I will not even have to interfere. Watching how events unfold will prove both interesting and entertaining in the long run." A sinister chuckled echoed through the room until it was suddenly cut of with a startling and unexpected 'pop'.

"I'll never get used to that man just disappearing like that," the graying man muttered as he turned back to his desk. "But you forget 'OLD FRIEND'" he sneered, "we will both bow to him in order to survive what is coming."

* * *

Harry once again found himself in the unenviable position of being curled up on a rotting and moldy mattress in the small space beneath the main stairs of number 4 Privat Drive, his room and home since he had moved in with his aunt and uncle at just over one year of age.

It was treatment he had long expected from his aunt and uncle. Although he had been missing for just over a year, as soon as they had retrieved him from the police station they had punished him for the inconvenience of picking him up. At least they hadn't beaten him as part of his punishment this time, they seemed to have been unnerved by some of the looks they had received from the police when picking him up. – Good.

He knew that he didn't disserve the beatings and neglect his blood relatives put him though but there wasn't much he could do about it until he grew up a little bit. Size inferred power in a household where beatings were a regular occurrence. It was the only power he could even hope to achieve until he broke the bonds that tied him to Privat Drive, he had never experienced anything but biases on the behalf off those older than him in matters of his treatment at home and it was a trend he expected to continue.

His room was definitely smaller than he remembered, adding credence to what he had been told. The gap in his memories covered the twelve months that he had been missing, and no matter how he strained, he could not fill the blanks within his head. The missing time didn't bother him as much as the lack of memories of his time away from the Dursley's. Life didn't change all that much on Privat Drive, for him anyway. 'I could go missing for twice as long and not miss anything important,' Harry thought with frustration and not a small amount of longing.

Only two images kept protruding on his consciousness from the time he had been missing, a clear image of facing down a masked man bearing an automatic weapon of some kind and one of lying in a bed with a number of men in white coats examining him.

On further reflection and examination of the first image he decided it had to be when he was first kidnapped, he could picture himself huddled under the stairs wedged between the moldy mattress and the back of the cupboard. His aunt, uncle, cousin and the police had told that him that he had been missing for twelve months.

So if he was to trust the flash of memory, as he was inclined to, it was unlikely have to been while he was missing; placing it at the beginning of his ordeal. 'This man whoever he is had to be the one who abducted me,' Harry thought deep in thought as he further scrutinized the memory.

The man who abducted him held himself with a straight military bearing and his clothes where too precise to belong to someone off the street. Then there was his mask and weaponry to consider, living underneath the stairs of the Dersley's and having his learning and experiences suppressed as it was, didn't give him much to compare the technology to but the mask and gun looked both hi-tech and expensive.

Definitely not a home invasion gone wrong like both his guardians and the police had told him, there was more going on than he was being told. But then when was it ever different.

It was clear that he had grown an inch or two and filled out some from the way the room under the stairs had shrunk, he had even put on some muscle. The cupboard under the stairs had never been real big but now it was just cramped.

'So,' he thought to himself 'I was probably fed enough where I was. Been given enough exercise that my muscles didn't atrophy, meaning I wasn't locked up, perhaps I was better off wherever I was.' Even as he thought it, he dismissed the idea; here he knew the boundaries of his prison. How much he could get away with and how far he could push his uncle and the rest of his adopted family. Knowing the conditions of this prison allowed him to work at breaking free from them. Harry couldn't even remember the place he was trapped over the last year of his life. For all he knew it could have been worse.

And while the two police that has dealt with his case had hinted at abuse, Harry knew that he would never admit to it while he could look forward to a new school in the coming year. Wherever his aunt and uncle decided to send him it would mark the beginning of a long journey to gain his independence and escape the servitude he know found himself in by gaining access to information.

Education he knew was the only way to escape the prison of ignorance he found himself in. A new school would allow him to rebuild himself an image for himself, rather than the one created by his aunt and uncle, something that he hadn't been old enough to do when he had entered his last school.

The real crime his guardians were responsible for in his opinion, was not that his uncle regularly beat him or that his aunt neglected his health and wellbeing or failed to feed him enough, those were rarely permanent and could be fixed in time, if not easily. 'No', he thought with anger. 'The real crime that I will hold my aunt and uncle to account for is the restriction of enough education to live without their abusive support that they provide grudgingly and no doubt for as little time as they can get away with, and I hope they burn in hell for it.'

Out of necessity, Harry had taught himself with the limited aid of teachers how to read and write. What information there was available to him at libraries on history, society and the law was devoured. But he had to be careful about what people saw him do and learn because his actions were regularly reported to his guardians and that was never a 'comfortable' or 'enviable' experience.

Thus he could never ask questions, request or buy books, or even bring them home to read. He shuddered to think about the reaction if he out scored his cousin in any kind of sport or academic exam or gained a reputation of being somehow smarter than Dudley. Hopefully more would be overlooked at his new school due his age. It still wouldn't do to show how much he did or didn't know but if he was ever to break free of the mould that his relatives put him in then that would be a good first step.

Harry had come to the conclusion a few years ago that the world was a cruel and lonely place to live and that he wouldn't be able to trust anybody but himself, particularly those older than himself. Adults, if they didn't beat him would often report his behavior to those who would. Even those that at first appeared to be nice to him to try and gain his trust always had ulterior motives that were rarely advantageous for him and often ended up being a painful lesson not to open up and trust others.

Kids his own age were often worse than the adults, they seemed to have an innocence about them that was easier to trust and yet he could always see the seeds of deviousness that all adults seemed to possess.

Harry, once again trawled through the memories of his short life, cataloguing them and often reminding himself of small facts that he had forgotten or overlooked that may become useful in the future. It was something that passed the time and created a feeling that he was doing something that hurried the time remaining when he would be able to leave Privat Drive and strike out on his own.

Shifting on the moldy mattress into a more comfortable position and relieving his feet which were rapidly falling asleep from the lack of room he stopped his internal dialogue into his treatment at the hands of those that should have looked after in favor of examining the second flash of memory he could remember from the time he was missing.

Clip boards and medical equipment he had not noticed before became more obvious. Too many doctors surrounded his bedside for something as simple as a broken bone or an infection. Either he had been extremely sick or there was something unusual about his sickness.

Where was he and why was he found now? He had overheard the police talking about already checking all the hospitals and medical centers for him and except for the continued soreness in his muscles and incessant itching under his skin he could feel no evidence of enduring sickness or disease.

When combined with 12 months that no one could account for, it painted a confusing picture that he was determined to piece together. From his own experiences, if he wasn't able to achieve something himself then it wouldn't get done since no one would be interested in helping him. It was thus up to him to look after his own well being and solve the mystery of his absence and missing memories. He had a feeling that they would come back to haunt him if he did not.

"THUMP" the sound of the front door slamming open surprised Harry, anyone else would have jumped but he had long since stamped out such reactions. Besides there was barely enough room to shift his weight around in the cupboard let alone room to jump around.

Not having trained himself against reacting to the unexpected would have proven unhealthy in a household where his uncle was always looking for an excuse to exact punishment in the form of a beating or additional chores. Pausing his frustratingly fruitless task of trying to crack the void within his memories or attempt to solve the mystery of his absence he strained his ears towards the muffled yelling in the living room.

His uncles booming voice, normally so clear in throwing out orders was now muffled and seemed full of uncertainty anger and… fear. Harry winced in anticipation, since he often bore the brunt of his uncle's uncertainty, anger and fear, or any other slightly negative emotion that his uncle felt, but his eyes shone with curiosity as well because it was …strange to hear the tremor of fear in the indistinct booming.

"CRACK" Harry blinked as the voices suddenly broke off at the sound of furniture splintering and he heard his uncle demanding that he come out and meet an important guest. Although Harry felt a lot better after a decent nights sleep he was still very sore from waking up on a bed of rubble and the wiggling that was required to escape the small enclosed space beneath the stairs left him grunting in discomfort.

As much as he revealed in the small undercurrent of fear in his uncles voice he was a little apprehensive of anyone that was capable of putting it there. "What can I do for you uncle?" he asked in a tone that he had perfected over the years. It was the one he had developed through years of experimentation, which was the least likely to provoke a reaction from the fat man.

His expression was devoid of any inflection or emotion and made him sound like some kind of automaton, but he didn't mind. He knew that one day there would be a reckoning and he was counting the days. Besides he knew that his eyes still sparkled with emotion, something that his uncle either didn't seem to mind or didn't notice.

"This man...er…Hagrid, is taking you out for your birthday. I expect you back before dark now…" Vernon was clearly stumbling, an artificial grin plastered on his face. 'Someone made uncle Vernon do something without resorting to violence,' Harry thought with amazement. 'Or minimal anyway,' he thought glancing at the splintered dining table dismissively. That is something I definitely have to learn.

'But what exactly is going on and since when has Uncle Vernon ever remembered my birthday?' he asked himself without letting his frustration show. 'Heck I even had to break into the principles office to get a look at my file to find out how old I was.'

Turning to look at the man beside his uncle, Harry understood why he could hear the small traces of fear in his uncle's voice. Hagrid stood half again as tall as Vernon Dursley and just as wide, but where as Vernon was grossly overweight, Hagrid was slightly muscled with little fat. 'Well I guess it's no mystery how he intimidated my uncle then,' Harry thought with disappointment. 'I guess it's back to weighting to grow a little.'

"Come on 'arry, we have lots to discuss bein' yer 11th birthday an' all." Keeping his face expressionless Harry limped after Hagrid out front the door ignoring the way the jolly expression on Hagrid's face melted into one of anger at the expression on his face and the sparkling in his emerald eyes. He was too busy thinking about what possible reason his uncle had for sending him out with Hagrid and why so close to his 11th birthday. 'Uncle Vernon has never mentioned my birthday before so why now?'

'Who is this Hagrid, I've never seen him before and I doubt my uncle has either judging from the heated exchange. So where are we going?'

Stilling his thoughts as Hagrid stopped a few paces from the front door Harry waited patiently for the answers he knew were coming. "'arry, you're a wizard and Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, great man that he is, would like to invite you to attend." Hagrid ended his proclamation with a flourish as he produced a letter with a red wax seal clearly displaying an intricately scripted and stylized H.

For the first time since he was seven Harry felt his face twist with emotion as a dangerous sneer crossed his face. This was the opportunity he had been preying for 'perhaps the world isn't as cruel as I thought, just filled with cruel and devious people. It has taught me the lesson well.'

* * *

When the trillions of nanites, nano-machines which culminated years of specialized research and more money than some countries earned in a year, entered his body some through his mouth, some though his eyes, but most through the pores of his skin, they immediately started to behave as they had been programmed to.

Communicating with a fraction of a picowatt they started to enhance the bodies own processes and where possible improving them, repairing damage where it found it and correcting faults both genetic and endemic.

But within the fraction of a second that it took for the nanites to distribute themselves randomly throughout his body unnoticed by the bodies own defences, they found his magical core. Something that was both unknown and clearly integral to the body's function. It also lay completely outside of the nanites programming, how to repair or improve upon something that was completely unknown to it was unknown.

Attempting to resolve the deficit with its programming, the nanites adapted, forming the beginnings of intelligence between the trillions of individual parts. It took a further ten minutes, an eternity to the budding artificial intelligence, to finish analysing the newly

discovered and unrecorded phenomenon before coming to a startling conclusion.

In order to fulfil its parameters, it would have to completely destroy the magical core and rebuilt it with itself forming an integral part. This action would allow for a continual improvement, rapid repair in case of any damage and rapid access.

Less than a nanosecond later a large magical and electromagnetic explosion was registered destroying a large medical facility and knocking out any recording or tracking devices for miles around. By the time a team of investigators arrived all they found was a pile of rubble in the middle of a rainstorm.


	2. Searching for Independence – Part 1

Title: A matter of perception

Author name: Kunglou

Author email: AU

Rating: PG-13

Summary: An ancient prophecy, a rogue military arm and technological experiments of questionable ethics will all make for the biggest change the wizarding world has yet seen.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from the use of these characters.

Author notes: AU, OC, Updated 20/05/07

**Chapter 2: Searching for Independence – Part 1**

Albus Dumbledore sat back in the large padded, claw legged chair and stretched his old legs toward the large oak desk that filled his office. It had been a long and tiring day and he expected it to get longer. In fact all his days lately had been long and tiring, ever since the disappearance of Harry Potter.

Always in public, he let his face show the enormous energy and love of life he had felt over the years as headmaster, people couldn't help but trust his twinkling blue eyes and grandfatherly appearance, just as his apparent boundless energy confounded their idea of his true age. At nearly one hundred and fifty years he would be considered truly ancient in the wizarding world but due to his magical power and status he still held a great deal of influence.

In private however, he allowed the weariness that he had felt since the kidnapping of Harry Potter to line his face. Harry Potter was to be the wizarding world's savoir, prophesied to destroy the darkest lord in history as he had banished him when he was just a babe, Harry was revered across the wizarding world for that unexpected and unexplained act and had been known as the Boy-Who-Lived ever since.

Albus was glad, in a way, that the prophecy was not generally known. If it were to become public knowledge, then there would inevitably be a mass panic since only Harry could finally lie to rest the greatly feared visage of the dark lord who hadn't been spoken of even ten years after his body's demise.

When Lord Voldemort attacked the home of the Potters', killing Harry's parents and attempting to kill him with the use of the infamous killing curse, a curious thing happened; The dreaded curse, which had dealt indisputable death since its invention millennia ago, for the first time in memory failed to kill its recipient. Instead it had rebounded upon the Dark Lord throwing him out of his body and cursing him into a limbo like existence until such a time that he once again managed to anchor his soul or restore his body. While the wizarding world thought the Dark Lord dead, he knew better.

Of course at the time he hadn't known all of the details he knew now, but a decade of research into the killing curse and the actions on that terrible night, made it all the more important that he found out who had kidnapped Harry Potter from the safety of his blood relatives home, and the protective wards he had woven to ensure the child's safety.

With a deep sigh, Albus reached behind himself for the old black wooden liquor cabinet that lay beside Fawkes perch and poured a glass of brandy. He had searched the wizarding world relentlessly over the past year without even a hint of success, no matter how it appeared; he very much doubted that Harry's disappearance was due to such an ordinary occurrence as a muggle' breaking and entering - despite the evidence which supported such a view. Harry was just too important to the wizarding world and had too many enemies and wizarding protections, protections created by the greatest living minds to have fallen victim of such a common fate.

Besides a few muggle criminals could not have possibly unwittingly foiled the carefully laid plans that he had spent years building and compiling. Ever since he had initially heard the prophecy in the years before Harry's birth, he had been plotting and planning for Tom Riddles down fall. Harry was the key that fate had granted him, and he was determined to shape and use fate's gift appropriately.

He had delved more deeply into his magic, and the true nature of magic generally, than most did in there lifetime, it was one of the things that made him a truly great wizard. His knowledge of magical theory after almost one hundred and fifty years was truly massive, enabling him to do some things that some wizards would think impossible. The cunning and experience that went with that power reinforced his belief that only wizards could have outwitted him so thoroughly. A wizard or group of wizards with experience and power that matched his own.

Feeling the warm, relaxing glow of the spirits settling his worries, Dumbledore gazed out of the large double bay windows of his circular office, beyond the Quidditch pitch and out towards the mountains which surrounded Hogwarts. Now, despite all the time he had put into his desperate search for the boy and the endless conferences he had held with the numerous portraits of the previous headmasters, which adorned his office, Harry had reappeared without any help or intervention that he could see.

He had reappeared just in time to attend Hogwarts as a first year student, it was a timing that was entirely too coincidental for comfort. The questions of where he had been, whom he was with and why he was taken remained unanswered, and he suspected would likely remain that for quite some time, or at least until such a time as one of his contacts in the Ministry of Magic contacted him and let him know what they had found out about the whole situation. Even then he guessed that much of the situation would remain very much a mystery.

The Ministry of Magic had much closer links to the muggle world than he did, and after such an extensive search he was almost positive that was where Harry's kidnappers had been hiding him. If indeed they had stayed in Britain at all.

As soon as he had heard of Harry's return, Albus had immediately notified Hagrid about the boy's sudden reappearance. Before bothering to wait for more information to become available he had sent Hagrid, Hogwarts Keeper of the Keys, to collect the boy and keep him at Diagon alley until the start of term. At least there, Harry could be watched, and Albus would be reassured that he wouldn't go missing again before he could get him to Hogwarts and under his own personal protection and influence.

'Yes,' Albus thought, putting the glass down on his desk a little more heavily than he would under more normal circumstances, and started to comb his hands through his long grey beard. 'Once Harry is here at the castle, I can start to guide his learning and development, to shape him into the type of wizard that will be both powerful enough to stand up to Tom as soon as possible and sensible enough to accept my guidance and

advice.'

Standing up suddenly and grinning mischievously, his eyes resumed their twinkling. Albus started to pace along the length of his office, ignoring the sudden mutterings of the portraits and the questioning trill from Fawkes. 'A book left here and scrap of parchment there. His father's invisibility coat, the possibilities are endless. There is little doubt with him growing up with his relatives that he will be in house Gryffindor, he is his father's son after all. That can only help my plans to shape him appropriately, I've always held a close association with Gryffindor after all.'

Albus sat down and summoned his pensieve to start to organize his thoughts and plans for the young Harry Potter. His disappearance had added some uncertainty into his old plans and as such he needed to recast some of them and make them more flexible to change. 'Yes, I can definitely see the possibilities here,' he thought, head buried in the silvery strands that swirled in the shallow stone basin. His face no longer drawn and lackluster, he had once again acquired the look of the most powerful wizard in centuries.

"Albus! Albus! We found him! He's alive!" Albus looked up sharply, disconnecting himself from his pensieve and plans in the making, at the thin face of Arthur Weasley that had appeared out of the green flames of his fireplace. Where once the red flames and licked the smoldering coals, floo powder had turned the flames green and rendered them harmless and momentarily changed his fireplace into a very handy communication and transportation device.

Albus turned around in his chair towards the man with small tuffs of red hair on his balding head and looked smilingly through his half-moon shaped gasses perched on his crooked nose. "Ahhh Arthur," he began gently. "I was wondering when I would get a chance to speak to you. I presume you are talking about the-boy-who-went-missing?"

'Arthur had always been a good Gryffindor and very easily led by his grandfatherly image,' he mused paying close attention to the man. He had made a valuable contact over the years, and would continue to provide him with the information he needed.

Arthur grinned excitedly from his place in the fire, his glasses shone reflecting the green glow of the floo fire. "I am indeed talking about Harry Potter and just in time for Hogwarts; you must be thrilled headmaster."

"I am Arthur, I am, and you must be exited about your own son entering this year. Ron would make a great friend for the boy," he commented. Albus's gentle smile and sparkling eyes carefully masked his suspicions about the timing of Harry Potter's re-emergence into wizarding society. "After all growing up in a muggle household can't have taught him very much about the wizarding world could it."

Still his casual hint would probably pay off and give him one more avenue to explore Harry's life, one that could prove incredibly important through the years if Ron was as easily led as his father.

Arthur's smile slid from his face and his eyes started to fill with shadows and doubts at Albus's words. "Headmaster, from what I've been hearing he might need all the help and support he can get. We may have made a terrible, terrible mistake by leaving him with his last remaining blood relatives." The headmaster barely contained a worried frown at Arthur's words. Now he was very interested in what the ministry had discovered of the missing Harry Potter.

"Nonsense Arthur," Albus waved dismissingly at the floo fire "that was the safest place for him after him after Voldemort's demise. The blood magic protected him from some very dangerous individuals, some of whom are still unaccounted for today."

'Besides,' he thought 'having little to no knowledge of the wizarding world would allow for a much more malleable student, allowing me to shape him that much more easily. His placement with his relatives ensured that he was safely out of the way until he had grown up enough to be useful.' He carefully suppressed the small voice that pointed to the failure of his plan by allowing Harry to be kidnapped and the uncertainty it had subsequently added into any future dealings he would have with the boy.

"It wasn't the wizarding world we should have worried about. There are suspicions of child abuse in his police file, and when I asked around his old school it certainly seems a very real possibility to me; I haven't found evidence yet and neither have the muggle police but…"

Albus frowned in concern as the portraits behind started to chatter more loudly, Particularly vocal was the portrait of Dily's Derwent, but that was to be expected, as a healer she would have abhorred and been more sensitive to any sorts of child abuse than the others.

What concerned him greatly was less the abuse and more the effect the abuse would have on the boy. One could never tell in advance, and the results could be disastrous to his plans. Tom Riddle's abuse as a child played a direct role in him becoming Lord Voldemort, the most feared Dark Lord in history. 'This changes things again,' he though in annoyance, 'Harry Potter was becoming more and more problematic'. Still, there was the vague hope that it was not true, no evidence had been found after all.

"I'm sure that…" Albus refocused on what Arthur was saying. Both Molly and Arthur, as parents to seven children themselves, would have been horrified to find out about even the remote possibility existed that the boy was abused.

"It's alright Arthur," he started, cutting him off. "I have arranged for a room at the Leaky Cauldron, Diagon Ally, for Harry until the start of the school year. That will give us plenty of time to get to the bottom of these claims without leaving Harry in a potentially damaging environment. It's better to err on the side of caution in these situations after all."

"Now how is Ron looking forward to his first year at Hogwarts?" The Headmasters abrupt change of subject signaling an end to the discussions about the "boy who lived" and Arthur happily began to talk about his youngest son. Albus just wished that he could stop worrying as easily as he had changed the subjects. If these claims for abuse were true, how would it affect his plans?

* * *

"So, Hagrid," Harry began as he stretched his neck to look up at the giant man's heavily bearded face, quickly hiding his feral sneer as he broke the wax seal and opened the thick envelope. "A wizard you say. What exactly does that mean?"

He carefully hid his rapidly flickering emotions from his voice and face; after all he didn't know anything about the man except his name and the fact that he scared the crap out of his fat uncle. Not exactly a screaming endorsement.

So he didn't want to revel too much about himself and the questions that he asked, how he asked them and how he reacted to information, all revealed things about himself that he wanted to stay private or at least controlled. He would be able to filter what people saw in him and shape the image that he presented to the world, an image that for the first time in his life would not be shaped by his guardians or controlled by anybody but him.

Any information that Hagrid discovered about him, or his life could be passed onto anyone else. It wasn't a thought he was comfortable with. In his short life, whenever someone told other people about him it always lead to a worsening of his already crappy life, an increase in beatings, other punishments, and further restrictions on his freedoms.

"It means that you'll be able ta' do magic o'course," Hagrid boomed in an uninformative manner. "An' tha' letter is an invitation to go to the most prestigious wizarding school in all o' Britain." Hagrid gestured Harry to the street as he continued, "'course with you missin' for so long an' all, the Headmaster, great man that he is, has arranged transport for yeh' to buy yeh' school supplies."

Briefly scanning the contents of the letter he snorted in amusement and admiration at Hagrid's answer. He of course didn't know anything more about wizards and what they were capable of than what he would have known from reading the invitation or the list that accompanied it. All in all a beautiful and cunning dodge. Clearly they were waiting for a response when he discovered it for himself, they would be disappointed.

The scrawled invitation to Hogwarts on the thick parchment was accompanied by a list of school supplies, which would be needed for first year. The man was either very clever at avoiding questions or he was hard of hearing. If it were the former then he was likely reporting back to someone else and that made Harry even more cautious.

Stuffing the letter into the pockets of the clothes he had been gifted with yesterday by the police officers, he followed Hagrid down the street, presumably towards Diagon ally. 'It was either that or go back to the Dursley's' he thought filling only contempt for his blood relatives and he would rather chance the offer of a new life than risk being stuck with the Dursley's until his majority.

Harry blinked with surprise as he rounded the corner of his street and almost ran into four horses attached to a carriage blocking the sidewalk. This in it self was a strange enough occurrence in Surrey but even stranger was the fact that the carriage was like none he had seen before, in life or in a book, detailed gold gilding and rich wooden carvings covered its surfaces in glaring statement of wealth. Even his readings on European monarchs described carriages more unassuming than this one.

Then there were the horses that led it. It was the horses that finally convinced him that Hagrid was not off his rocker and perhaps there was some truth in this magic racket. If intimidated enough, he could well see his uncle passing him off to complete strangers for who knew what nefarious purpose. Harry suppressed a shudder at the thought and gazed

at the horses with carefully disguised interest.

The strange horses were huge, winged with what could only be described as dragonish faces and necks, and had incredibly skeletal and black bodies. It was the eyes that most caught his attention though as he approached them in amazement. The eyes appeared too large for the creatures head at first glance, but that, he supposed, could have been an illusion created from the apparent lack of a pupil. He was mesmerized by the smallest wisps of color that swilled around the milky orbs in an almost hypnotizing effect.

The creatures looked deadly, he thought as he approached them with caution, and not something he would have imagined would be used to draw a carriage. While he no longer seemed small for his age after his kidnapping, these creatures looked deadly and towered over his small body. He couldn't help but wonder in amazement how it was that no one had noticed such a display, especially in the middle of Surrey.

'If there was ever such a thing as magic,' he thought, thinking of the irony of the situation. 'It's that the gossiping housewives, that for years failed to notice the neglect and abuse that I suffered at the hands of the Dursley's, are missing out on the gossip of the century. These animals, in the middle of Surry would set alight their conversations for decades.'

Misunderstanding Harry's stare, Hagrid enfolded his shoulder in one of his huge hands causing Harry to consciously repress the flinch at the unusual human contact. "Don' you worry 'arry, they aren't dangerous. Well as lon' as yeh' don't annoy them, then they might take a bite outta you if yeh'. Na, Thestrals are dead useful and jus' misunderstood."

Nodding in understanding, Harry ducked under Hagrids overly large hand and walked to the carriage as if the giant winged creatures didn't bother him at all. 'Which they didn't' he thought with a hint of a superior smirk as the animals ruffled their thick mains and stamped their hooves. 'I was much more worried about Hagrid's hand, hooves I can avoid with distance, a hand that close – no chance. I recon his fist would be almost the size of my head, definitely something to be avoided.' He thought with concern as calmed his thoughts and blanked his face of anything that may be viewed as provocative.

Once again he missed the sadness and guilt that flashed across Hagrid's face as he slipped from underneath Hagrid's hand and smoothed his face of all expression.

Still wondering how the Thestrals had avoided notice from the noisy and constantly gossiping neighborhood, Harry climbed into the carriage after Hagrid had calmed the restless animals. 'No doubt if I asked' Harry thought with annoyed distain 'I'd just get "Why magic Harry"'. The inside of the carriage was as luxurious as the outside; soft leather seats and a polished wooden interior gave a very relaxed but decadent feel to the surprisingly smooth ride to Diagon Ally.

He would not easily trust the giant of a man that had barged so suddenly into his life, even though getting him away from the Dursley's was a point in his favor. He didn't trust anyone needlessly and in the past that had meant that he hadn't trusted anyone. He doubted that would change anytime soon, but secretly he knew that he had to open up to someone if he wanted to change his image and establish his independence away from those that sought to control him.

'Not exactly who I imagined taking me away from the big bad Dursley's when I was younger though,' he thought with a sarcastic sneer, that was carefully hidden from the other passenger, as he imagined the huge burly man with a sword. 'Such a childish notion it was too.' "How do you expect me to buy anything without a single pound on me," Harry asked, not really expecting an answer but if he had to start a new image then the question had to be asked and it was perhaps a question that might have been expected from someone his age.

Without a source of money he could always steal what he couldn't get away with borrowing, he mused. Although his education thus far had been pretty poor and mostly self taught and directed, he had quickly learnt that most things could be acquired if really necessary. As long as he didn't get caught, no one paid too much attention to his often fifth or sixth hand goods. 'And,' he thought quietly 'I can't afford to get caught if I am to present the image I have in mind.'

'Still even if I can easily steal what I need, how am I going to know what to acquire and what to borrow if I can't even interpret some of these supplies. These potion ingredients look particularly indecipherable.' Harry was so caught up in his thoughts and plans about what he could do and how he would go about it that he almost missed Hagrids booming response to his question. "Why wif' yeh' inheritance o' course. Did yeh' think yeh' parents would leave yeh' nothin'." Harry stilled with surprise, 'money that the Dursley's hadn't got their hands on? And how long will that last before someone takes it away or enforces there own control over it?' he thought bitterly.

He had never had possessions of his own and any that he acquired were quickly destroyed and stolen. 'No,' he thought aggressively 'if its true then I will have to quickly make sure that it is safe, with no opportunity of anyone taking it from me. Still I wonder how my parents had enough money to pass along to me if they were a pair of drunks and

whore's. Not that I wouldn't put it past my Aunt to have lied about that as well.'

He noticed Hagrid shoot a few glances in his direction, before they reached wherever they were going. In all his experience dealing with people he could decipher the looks of pity, anger and fear but there were more prominent expressions, which touched the giant man's face that he had not seen anywhere. Thinking of his own actions he shrugged. If the man decided to punish him, with him so close there wasn't much he could do about it but if it were true that he was a wizard then it wouldn't be long before he learnt to protect himself and his things from even his uncle – size be damned. And with that thought he couldn't be more pleased.

Sitting back to enjoy the surprisingly smooth ride, Harry reached up to adjust his glasses only to realize that they were missing and had been since he had awoken in the rubble and rain. Yet he could see perfectly, it was strange - as he had needed glasses since he was three. 'Another mystery that is attached to that damned hole in my mind, along with my growth spurt and those two strange memories, I will break through that block and remember, it is just a matter of time.'

Startled out of his thoughts and his determined tirade by the slight movement of the carriage signaling their arrival, he straightened preparing to get out. After allowing himself to be helped out of the large carriage, Hagrid gestured at the crowded street of shops and boomed out with excitement, "Welcome to Diagon ally 'Arry."

Harry could certainly see why the man was excited. Even though the ally bustled with activity it was like being stuck in a time warp, the clothing everybody wore was centuries out of style and the way animals crowded the streets with the humans intrigued Harry, but also filled him with doubt about the cobble stoned ally's hygiene.

Flashing and glittering signs, an application of magic rather than technology, Harry guessed, marked the largest shops in the ally while smaller shops often had displays of some curiosity or another to attract attention. Often they would be producing colorful smoke and a producing a lot of noise adding to the general noise level and activity of the

wizarding centre. Restaurants could be seen squeezed between shops with their multicolored umbrellas and silver tables mingled with the crowd. He supposed he would need to get used to life here for the next few years if this was where he would be buying supplies for the next few years.

The lack of gawking or even a gasp of amazement from Harry seemed to dampen Hagrid's mood significantly, "right." He grunted sadly "This way then," then started dragging him in the direction of Gringotts, the wizarding bank. "We'll get yeh' some money and then we'll see about the rest of yeh list o' supplies."

Weaving between the crowds and watching carefully for animals, lest he step on them, Harry carefully observed both the inhabitants of the ally and the shops and restaurants that lined the ally, he quietly absorbed the atmosphere and judged the dynamic of the place. No one had told him how long his magical schooling would take but if it was anything like non-magical schooling then he guessed around six years. If he spent that

long in the magical world then he would inevitably be revisiting Diagon ally so he absorbed as many details as he could so as not to be dependant on anyone next time.

Besides, dealing with people was definitely not something he was used to and since to his mind no one knew him in the wizarding word he would be free to observe and slowly start to build the profile of what he had in mind.

It wasn't long before they arrived at a large building of polished white marble complete with archways and columns with a large glittering sign proclaiming it as Gringotts the Wizarding Bank. A few stairs lead into the building of classical Greek architecture and a short dark skinned figure in a scarlet and gold uniform stood guard at the entrance to the bank.

Stopping beside Hagrid in the eddy in front of the bank, Harry looked closer at the baldhead and pointed noise and realized that this person wasn't human. Not that he was too surprised that non humans existed and participated in wizarding society after his encounter with the Thestral drawn carriage, but seeing them and suspecting where two very different things. Noticing the direction of his gaze and correctly guessing its

cause Hagrids eyes lit up, "Never mess with Goblins, Harry. They can be quite vicious."

Harry had to wonder about Hagrid's attitude towards non-humans and he had caught a number of disdainful and superior glances directed towards the goblins from a number of wizards and witches. 'They may work together but they don't really get along,' Harry thought with interest and the beginnings of a plan.

Not acknowledging the larger man's answer to his unspoken question, Harry climbed the stairs and casually nodded at the Goblin guard standing at the burnished copper door. His experiences and lack of trust did not extend to non-humans and he decided that he would give them the benefit of the doubt. Something that, it appeared from what he had seen, the wizarding community did not.

After all, he could be quite vicious too in his own way, when he could get away with it, and his experience with the Thestrals had been much more positive than any of his other initial meetings in his lifetime.

Entering a large amphitheatre filled with more polished white marble columns that led to a large silver door with an inscription engraved into it, Harry suppressed his excitement as he realised that the insides of the building was very much larger than the outside. That curiosity had answered his initial question of what it meant to be a wizard and what magic was capable of in a more impressive manner than any mere explanation could. If magic were capable of playing so casually with space-time, then protecting his and his own from physically larger threats would be child's play.

As he approached, the engraving in the silver door became clear.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed_

_Of what awaits the sin of greed_

_For those who take, but do not earn,_

_Must pay most dearly in their turn._

_So if you seek beneath our floors_

_A treasure that was never yours,_

_Thief, you have been warned, beware_

_Of finding more than treasure there. _

"Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe -- 'cept maybe Hogwarts," Hagrid commented as he pushed the massive doors open and entered the bank proper, showing a casual familiarity with the bank and ignoring the two goblin guards standing at both sides of the silver door.

'I could begin to like these goblins,' he thought with a grin which only goblins guarding the entrance of the bank could see as he nodded in acknowledgement. 'That philosophy would match me perfectly if I had the power to back the threat up.' As he followed Hagrid into the bank his face re-assumed the blank mask that he had become so accustomed to wearing and he completely missed the look of surprise that filtered over the guards faces.

"Eres yeh' key then," Hagrid announced as they approached a line leading to one of the many tellers. "I got some other business to attend to 'ere. I'll meet you ere when you finish then." Hagrid left him standing in one of the shorter lines, gripping his key while he moved to a larger line at the back the bank. 'We'll,' he grunted in frustration and no

small amount of annoyance before he could stop himself, 'I guess it can't be too hard if he left an eleven year old, completely unfamiliar with the wizarding world or banking to handle his own affairs. Then again someone did leave me with the Dursley's.'

Despite his uncertainties, in some ways it was a relief when Hagrid left him to deal with the goblin teller alone since he would have no one else trying to find out his business. As soon as he had been told that he had gained some kind of inheritance, Harry had been thinking about how he could ditch the larger man, though perhaps not before he had been shown a little more of goblin etiquette. He may not have the power to protect his property yet but he would do all he could do to make sure that only he was able to access and control it.

His expressionless mask firmly in place, Harry confidently walked up to the teller firmly repressing any doubts that floated around unwanted in his stomach. "What can I do for you little wizard," wheezed out the goblin teller as he got closer to the counter. The distain and deep distrust in the goblins voice was easily audible to someone with Harry's

background and almost caused him to frown in confusion. To someone without his history it would have been very difficult to detect. As it was his face was carefully blank of any expression that may give away his thoughts so was it aimed at him specifically or wizard kind in general?

"I need to talk to someone about my finances master goblin." It was the goblins turn to be confused at his neutral tone and respectful words. The confusion was written all over the creature's dark skinned face. 'Well," he thought, "Isn't that interesting. Either he is not used to clients being quite so unemotional or he isn't used to being addressed as master goblin. Something to think about.' He had not missed how the people before him had treated the goblin as little more respect than a servant.

"Key," Harry handed his key over without any complaint, unsure what to expect. Hagrid had just handed it over to him expecting him to know what it was or what is was for and what it did. He did not. "Very well mister…" Hary's face broke into a hard snarl, teeth just visible on the right side of his mouth. All sparkling vanished from his eyes in favor of deadly orbs of flashing green. It wasn't a look he practiced often, only when he could be sure that no one would find out that he was not as broken, and subjugated by years of abuse, as he appeared.

"Sir," the goblin continued smoothly and Harry's face once again assumed its expressionless look. "Gormr will see you beyond those doors," the goblin finished handing back his key. The previous distain and mistrust which coated his words having been replaced by … intrigue, 'well, I guess I'm not the only one that dislikes and does not trust at the drop of the hat. Though I wonder what Wizards have done to goblins to embed such a level of hate into the goblins that even their everyday dealings is coated with it?'

Following the directions of the teller, he passed further lines of wizards and entered a gold trimmed door into what appeared to be a private office. A large metallic table, too large to fit through the door sat at the centre of the room and numerous pieces of mediaeval weaponry and amour decorated the room, interspersed with fine artworks and carvings. All displaying a skill in metal working that Harry found amazing, still he would not be distracted from his business, he took in what information he could in a single glance and promised himself he would re-examine the memory later.

Sitting down opposite the goblin behind the desk, Harry refused to be intimidated by the feral grin, which displayed the goblins numerous sharpened teeth; apparently he was not at all concerned with putting a potential client at ease. "So Mister Potter," the goblin drawled "Haraldr has informed me that you wish to discuss your finances and maintain the privacy which only Gringotts can offer. Why?"

Harry's mind was working furiously as he looked at the Goblin behind the desk, not at all intimidated by his sharp teeth or overbearing attitude. He had spent so long hiding behind masks and distrusting the world that he found it almost impossible to do anything else, and yet if he was to gain the power to protect himself and his, and to fulfill his promise to

himself then he would need to do just that. This was possibly the first step, he would need to take a gamble and hope that it paid out. It was an action that he found diametrically opposed to his very being but to achieve his goals…

Still that did not mean he needed to be hasty, "I did Gormr." Harry allowed for the first time in years for all his masks to fall and a fierce and mischievous grin to form, "I have had." Harry paused as if searching for the correct words, "reason to distrust my colleagues and peers in the past. Too many have had power over my possessions and my person in the past and have abused that power, that once I found out I had a sum of money at your establishment I found myself," once again he paused for effect. "Reluctant to trust more than I needed to."

Gormr sat forward and stared at Harry searchingly as if measuring him up and refining his impressions of him in his mind before he replied showing that his hard eyes hid an intelligence and cunning earned by hard experience, "and yet you have repeatedly relaxed your masks to the goblins within this very building. Goblins, which I might add, that have no influence over you or your finances. I ask again, why?"

Harry widened his grin and sharpened his gaze at the goblin before him, "I have only been introduced to the magical world recently, but while my knowledge of its history and people is non-existent, I have very good instincts. Instincts that have been ground into me by experience. Walking through Diagon ally and keeping my eyes and ears open has told me more than enough to let me draw an important conclusion. People are people, regardless of whether or not they have magical ability. They have the same concerns, feel the same emotions, fear and hunger for the same things. It is only their magic that allows them to go about it differently and that is reason enough to distrust them, just as I have learned to distrust my peers in the muggle world."

Harry paused watching Gormr's face carefully, "thus far I have only encountered goblins and Thestrals, of the magical creatures. Goblins I have found to harbor the same mistrust and suspicion of wizards that I do for unknown reasons and reading between the lines, Thestrals are feared or hated for existing. Besides," he commented with false flippancy, "I find the goblin philosophy close to my own for what I suspect is similar reasons."

"You are very unique among wizards Harry Potter, and still very young to be so jaded," Gormr hissed between his sharpened teeth as he accepted his key. Harry could see from the glint in the goblins eyes that he had struck a nerve and perhaps even touched upon something which Harry was not even aware of, but which would make his gamble of trusting these magical creatures much more interesting.

"Your finances consist of two vaults, a Potter family vault – very old blood that, and a trust account which draws upon the family vault. This key will only get you access to the trust account, which will limit your spending to that of 1000 galleons a month, but since it has not been accessed in over ten years it has a substantial sum in it which has been collecting interest."

'Typical,' thought Harry with disgust 'I may have money in which to buy possessions of my own but once again I have been left without any knowledge that I will need to function in this magical community without relying on someone else. Is independence so much to ask for?'

"Has anyone else got access to either of my vaults other than myself?" Harry asked with a deceptively calm face.

"Only your magical guardian and he has chosen to freeze your accounts rather than let Gringotts administer them. It has been collecting interest but at a much lower rate than it could have been. Much, much lower and over ten years this has made a large difference to the size of the account."

Harry froze, who would make such a financially inept decision and why? He had had little financial education in his short life, but even he understood what compound interest was. And why if he had a magical guardian had he been left so ignorant of his heritage. "Who is my magical guardian," he asked in a frigid tone.

"Albus Dumbledore of course, Mister Potter." Gormr's reply confirmed his suspicions and turned his ice-cold anger into a blistering rage. 'That bastard,' he thought 'he is just as guilty of neglect as my bastard relatives. More so, it is no co-incidence that the principle to my new school is also my magical guardian. The world really IS full of manipulative and cruel people. To think he could have…' he cut that thought off instantly. It was no good thinking of what might have been. Instantly his face had assumed the expressionless mask that he was so used too.

"Is there any way that I can cut or at least limit that access and allow Gringotts to resume control over my accounts. Money not being used is money wasted." His voice displayed none of the fury that moments ago had flooded his thoughts. He had no doubt that the goblin was aware of his anger but he would not allow it to influence his decisions.

"Not directly, Mister Potter, but I will see what I can dig up." He could tell that Gormr was pleased with something, but he could not determine what it was exactly, then again he assumed that they charged commissions and he would benefit from such a transaction. 'Something I'll bring up next time.'

"Griphook," Gormr shouted out moments before a slender Goblin ran into the office. "Show Mister Potter to his vault." Griphook looked at Harry expectantly before turning to leave just as Gormr added almost as an after thought, "oh and give him the full treatment will you."

Harry caught the suspicious look that the two goblins shared before following Griphook, his guard firmly raised against any surprises. He still did not trust the goblins fully, but he would give them the benefit of the doubt, besides he suspected that this was some test by the older Goblin, and he was determined to pass, it was the first of many steps to power and independence.

Walking past lines of wizards waiting for service, Harry wondered where Hagrid had disappeared too and then shrugged. He had mentioned that he had business to attend to and he was not finished his own either, so it hardly mattered if he could not find the giant of a man amongst the crowd. Griphook gestured to some kind of mining cart which stood on rails and looked like they descended into some kind of shaft. Harry just nodded playing everything by ear. His accounts had been constantly referred to as vaults so he assumed they were underground. The mining cart and rail tracts just confirmed his assumption.

Climbing into the cart behind Griphook he gripped the sides as the goblin pressed a button, setting the cart off along the tracts like a rocket. He was glad that something seemed to be holding him in place, magic he assumed, because by the time the journey was over he had counted a number of sharp turns that would have flung him out of his seat as he lost his grip. He refused to show his growing nausea or fear though, he assumed this was the full treatment that Gormr had mentioned and that his performance would be reported and judged.

From what he had been able to tell of the catacombs as they flung through them at speeds that blurred the rock around them, the goblins had deliberately built them into horribly complex mazes. He had counted enough loops, rises and drops to thoroughly confuse his sense of direction. A security precaution he guessed, and a good one.

As the cart slowed and stopped, Harry stepped out after Griphook, firming the shaking muscles in his legs and forcing a cheerful smile. "Thank you Griphook, that was a very enlightening trip." He almost laughed at Griphooks expression before the goblin managed to control himself.

"Key," Griphook demanded gruffly. Harry nodded in good humor as he handed it over and was impressed when the large golden doors opened to his vault. It was enormous cavern that had the appearance of being chipped out of the bedrock by hand. Different layers of earth colored the sides of the chamber and the ceiling was coated by a waxy black material from centuries of oil torches providing light in this dark pit deep under the earth.

Large piles of coins were piled everywhere. Gold, silver and gold coins covered every surface and to Harry's mind it was more money than he could have imagined. 'If this is only my trust account' he thought with amazement and not a little bit of possessiveness, 'then I'm stinking rich.' "The gold ones are Galleons." The goblin said following him in and shoving a small clothe sack into his hands. "Seventeen silver Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle."

Harry nodded in thanks at his unspoken question, he had never seen wizarding currency and he was grateful for the goblins help. He quickly filled three quarters of the sack that Griphook had passed him with the golden coins, when he began to purchase some of his supplies he would probably fill the sack with change and he could always come back if he needed more. "Is there a way I can secure this so only I can access it," Harry asked curiously as he finished filling the sack.

He would hate for some pick pocket to steal even a small amount of his wealth, and he had a feeling that securing gold was something that goblins excelled at. "For a galleon I can key the sack to your blood," replied Griphook with a devious smile producing sharp looking claws he hadn't noticed before. Nodding uncertainly he handed a gold coin over to the goblin and allowed him to slash his palm drawing blood and smearing it into the cloth sack, now filled with Galleons.

Griphook mumbled indecipherably for a moment and Harry watched in amazement as the blood soaked into the cloth sack and quickly disappeared. "Thank you Griphook, now lets get out of here," Harry announced as he attached the surprisingly light bag to his person, and retreated from the vault.

Griphook just looked startled then grinned in anticipation before hoping into the cart and pulling out a long black strip of cloth. "Before we leave Mister Potter, if you are serious about maintaining your anonymity for the rest of your shopping in Diagon Ally, then you should put this on." Once he had watched Harry wrapped the black material around his

forehead, and tied a knot in the back and nodded in thanks at Griphook, who then pressed the button on a consol at the front of the cart and they shot of like a rocket back up to the surface.

Harry's eyes glittered darkly as he thought about how his inheritance opened opportunities he had thought long closed to him and he began to consider all of the new possibilities for the rest of his shopping trip in Diagon Ally.


	3. Searching for Independence – Part 2

Title: A matter of perception

Author name: Kunglou

Author email: AU

Rating: PG-13

Summary: An ancient prophecy, a rogue military arm and technological experiments of questionable ethics will all make for the biggest change the wizarding world has yet seen.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from the use of these characters.

Author notes: AU, OC, Updated 23/05/07

**Chapter 3: Searching for Independence – Part 2**

Harry Potter leaned against a giant white marble column in the Gringotts atrium, casually fingering the black head cloth that Griphook had asked him to wear. How the woefully thin, threadbare, black piece of cloth that was currently tied around his head, was supposed to allow him anonymity while he bought all his Hogwarts supplies in a crowded shopping alley he had no idea, all he knew was the goblins had assured him that it would. Perhaps they were right, he had found that sometimes the most effective place to hide, after all, was in plain sight.

Still, standing in plain view of so many people made him nervous. For the moment he would take the goblins at their word, he was gambling with his trust for the first time in years and for once it seemed to be paying off. For non-humans, the goblins seemed to be all right people and potentially excellent allies; he would wait to see if his trust continued to pay off. The fact that it was going so well so far both reassured and confused him.

He was not used to being treated with anything resembling respect or decency and yet that was what the goblins had done, WHY? They had treated other wizards with barely disguised distain and on first meeting them, they had done the same to him as well. It was only a little later that they had started to treat him differently to the other wizards.

Why? In his own opinion his actions were not anything special, certainly nothing that would wipe the sneering disrespect from the goblins at least.

The goblins may not have been much bigger than he but he recognized the position of power that they occupied by controlling the wizards wealth. They held power that he only dreamed about, so why had they treated him any differently to the other wizards, wizards, who he assumed, held much more power than an eleven year old boy that knew nothing about the wizarding world and who did not even have control over his own wealth.

So what was it? Somehow he knew it had something to do with the cloth tied around his head and the large amount of gold coins in his vault. Gold coins he was determined to gain complete and exclusive control over as soon as possible.

While he was pleased that they had treated him differently from the other wizards, and it gave him hope that he may yet be able to break the cycle of abuse and dependency that his guardians, both wizarding and non, seemed to be constantly putting him through, his mind continued to ask itself what the goblins could get out of helping him.

Even though confusion ran rampart through his thoughts and his questions continued to invade his brain unanswered, his face was molded into an expressionless mask and his eyes shone with false confidence. Even here, surrounded by apparent strangers, in a bank that was staffed by goblins, he never could tell who was watching him, taking notes and who was reporting to whom. In fact, he felt particularly exposed standing in the open like this while he waited for Hagrid. While he enjoyed the freedom of being able to move around in the open rather than restricted to the cramped space under his uncle's stairs, he did not like exposing himself to attack or scrutiny.

Standing here potentially opened him to both.

Despite what he had told the goblins there was one major difference between the people in the wizarding world and the ones he had grown up in. Where he had grown up, people knew him, his reputation and his history – one that was constantly being reinforced by his guardians. Here, in the wizarding world, he was just another eleven-year-old brat, one without a history and certainly no friends, allies or enemies. Although he hoped that the goblins would prove valuable and loyal allies in time.

It was a clean slate, and standing here thinking about his encounters so far with the goblins and Hagrid, he was slowly starting to realize that that was both a blessing and a curse. While he had always maintained an expressionless mask and held a tight reign over his emotions to avoid attention at home and at school, here it would most likely bring him attention rather than avoid it. He had already made an impact on Hagrid he knew, and that was not what he wanted at all.

With such a clean slate he needed to be seen as exactly what he was supposed to be, just another eleven-year-old brat. And his somber expression just did not match that image. He needed to vanish into the crowd. Remain obvious but unnoticed by the multitude of people he passed and met.

Yet, he could not suddenly change his behavior now, at least to Hagrid - that would be suspicious. If however he spread the change slowly over the month before school, it could well be explained away easily and he could once again slip through the cracks of all the other school children that he would no doubt run into. Meanwhile, those that had not met him would only see the face he portrayed. It would be difficult to maintain the fiction, but after school started it would no longer be a problem.

Just as he started to get impatient at waiting for Hagrid to meet him in Gringotts atrium, wondering how much trouble he would cause by leaving without him to continue with his own shopping. A familiar voice echoed through the polished marble atrium. "'Arry, yeh finished. I 'ope yeh weren't waiting feh long."

Harry straightened and looked at Hagrid sharply when he detected a small trace of nervousness tainting his voice. Looking closely at the approaching man, he could see his pupils dilated, his breath slightly shortened and his fingers twitching around the cloth covered bundle grasped in his hands.

"Not too long Hagrid. You ready to continue, I saw a couple of shops I wouldn't mind visiting. Now I have money I can continue buying the supplies I need." He allowed the feeling of excitement and no small amount of impatience shine more strongly from his eyes even if his face expressed nothing. He could not afford to let such a sudden change in behavior be noticed. He was well practiced at expressing emotions that he didn't feel or that had long been suppressed, it was a survival mechanism in an abusive household.

Besides, if Hagrid were as worried about the strange cloth bundle as he appeared, then he would hardly notice a little more manipulating. Over the years the art of manipulating adults had been a matter of survival and this was no different. If he could get away from whomever Hagrid was reporting to, then he would have a better chance of pulling off his plans unnoticed and unhindered.

Harry almost smiled as Hagrid gripped the cloth bundle tighter, he had hoped that he would be able to push his luck against the man, to put his plans into motion straight away. What ever he was holding, Hagrid seemed exceedingly nervous about it and from his behavior wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible, his nervousness played straight into Harry's cunning little hands however, fortitude really was smiling on him today, if this kept up he may enjoy life in the wizarding world.

Hagrid's reply confirmed his guess at Hagrid's nervousness, "I was 'oping to visit the Leaky Cauldron you know, for a quick nip. Thou I had thou' after yeh shopping."

Harry suppressed a vicious smirk, could he push the man harder without having to worry about a severe beating later? Or worse, having him notice his intention of getting away from the giant mans watchful eyes. Hagrid was a lot bigger than his uncle Vernon and unknown to him, he would probably kill him by mistake if the man decided to punish him and despite his first impressions of the mans intelligence he hadn't known him for long enough to be completely sure about his intentions. Was the risk of a beating or being found out so soon worth being able to shop freely in the Ally?

On one hand he had learnt from hard experience the harsh realities of trying to break from the sadistic chains of his abusive guardians. If he ever wanted to escape in his lifetime then it was vital that he not let them gain any information about his state of mind, the progress of his education or what he was currently learning, and what assets he currently owned. Any information that was known either had to be changed fast or further false information needed to be fed to anyone watching him to obscure the source of information.

It had worked well in the past as he slowly perfected his strategies of misdirection that the frequency of his beatings had decreased noticeably and he had gained a small amount of freedom to pursue further activities without anyone realizing that he was making full use of the freedom he had gained. Of course all that relied upon him being as secretive and cunning as possible because if he were ever discovered then the punishment he would inevitable face would be that much worse for him keeping his secrets from the world.

If he calmly followed Hagrid to the Leaky Caldron Hagrid without subtly pushing the giant, his babysitter he supposed, to let him shop himself then he most likely would not get an opportunity to gain information unwatched or unnoticed again. Whoever Hagrid was or was not he somehow doubted that he would risk alienating Harry so soon after their first introduction.

'No', he decided 'information was everything, information and the ability to use it was POWER' and he had already risked much to gain what he had, to truly achieve independence though he needed more. 'What's one more potential beating,' he thought derisively. "I will be careful and will catch up with you soon, I promise." Harry watched Hagrid sway indecisively, almost certainly under orders to keep him in sight at all times.

Almost sighing he upped the amount pleading that he had overheard looked too cute on small children. "After all, you need to get that to whoever you obtained it for." Although his face and voice were carefully calculated for maximum effect, he feared that he had overplayed his card for a second before Hagrid's hands tightened on the cloth-covered bundle in his over sized hands.

"Alright then 'arry," Hagrid announced with a sigh of defeat, "I'll be in the Caldron, don't be long now and make sure you keep that bandana on won' yeh." His shambling footsteps echoed on the stone floor as he shuffled through the door and out into the crowd of wizards populating the alley.

The comment about the bandana shook him though, what was it that Hagrid and the Goblins knew that he didn't? Something important, he was sure of it and he would find out. The bandana was important and Harry respected the goblins for not telling him outright but instead giving him clues. Could he use the fact that Hagrid knew to assume that most if not the entire wizarding world knew what the secret was? 'Surely not,' he thought dismissively. 'What possible secret would be so important to the wizarding world about me? No, my Wizarding guardian must have told Hagrid and the goblins would have known from holding my accounts. So what could it be?'

All the impatience and excitement disappeared from his eyes, replaced by a look of cunning and intelligence with a cheeky grin painted on his face as soon as Hagrid was out of sight. To anyone that glanced at him, all they would see would be an eleven year old boy with a cheeky grin on his face wearing non-wizarding clothes, slipping through the crowd and stepping over what he could only assume where pets.

Over the years he had mastered the art of being unnoticed in a crowd or even in a room full of people, despite the non-wizarding clothes, but from some of the looks he was receiving he knew that his first stop had to be a shop to get some new clothes from. He stood out too much even allowing for his skill at going unnoticed and quickly forgotten in a crowd.

Luckily for him he noticed a large glittering sign not to far from Gringotts almost as soon as he stepped away from the banks entrance proclaiming Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. Easing his way through the crowd so as not to draw any more attention than his non-wizarding clothes were already doing, Harry slipped into the robes shop, disturbing a small bell to announce new customers

Once again, he had to suppress his amazement at the seemingly ordinary sight of the inside of a shop being much larger than its outside suggested. Such casual manipulation of the laws of physics suggested an almost awesome power that Harry could not wait to learn to wield and control.

The walls inside the shop were lined with extravagant robes and cloaks of all shapes and sizes, often in garish colors that clashed with each other. He had half expected something like this after seeing what the other wizards seemed to enjoy wearing but actually seeing them made him shudder. There were also small shelves that held hats, boots and gloves made from some kind of thick leather.

"Starting Hogwarts this year dear," asked a woman from behind where he was inspecting the more ordinary clothes. Turning around he could see that she was a fairly squat witch, with deep mauve robes. From her smiling face he guessed that this was Madam Malkin. "Where are your parents, I can't imagine anyone letting such a dear wonder Diagon alley alone?"

Forcing a smile to his face that did not reach his eyes at the comment about his parents, Harry nodded at the woman and handed her his supply list. He had been observing the wizards in the alley, getting a feel for how they acted and quickly developed a cover story for himself, realistic enough he hoped to pass without comment.

"My parents trust me enough to get basic supplies madam," he said with forced politeness, lying through his teeth, the irony almost made him roll his eyes in amusement. His guardians, the closest things to parents he had, would be spitting nails at the thought of him walking around something as unnatural as a wizarding community. "As you can see," he commented, gesturing to his non wizarding clothes. "I will also need several regular robes on top of my Hogwarts needs."

"We'll, I can certainly help you with that. Most wizards get their supplies from Gladrags Wizardwear but as you can see I do have a small collection," she commented as tapes seemed to fly across the room and wrap themselves around him taking his measurements. "It's lucky that I have any left, what with most of the new Hogwarts students already having bought all their supplies. What were your parents thinking leaving it so late?."

Harry just stood there calmly as the measuring tapes flew away and were replaced by back school robes, a black hat and a black cloak. The casual display of magic shocked and surprised Harry, fuelling his desire to learn how to control his own magic. He couldn't let himself display the shock and surprise though – that would draw attention. Besides, the more he acted like such an event was everyday, the more he would be considered someone who was part of the community. Whether he was or not, his new clothes would help with that.

Harry listened to the woman gossip, he had met people like her before and he was confident that any information about the goings on in the wizarding world, who's who and even rumors about those in power would be far more valuable than any discomfort he may feel about mention of his birth parents.

"Why I haven't been so busy in years. It must be because of rumors that Harry Potter will be attending Hogwarts this year. Bless his soul." Several other robes, cloaks and leather jackets quickly joined the pile of clothes hovering around ready to be tried on.

Harry felt his ears almost stand up at the mention of his name; his heart was beating so loudly in his chest that he was afraid that the woman would notice his interest and stop her endless chatter.

Nodding he started to pick out some of the less garish combinations of robes. He tried not to laugh with glee as Madam Malkin continued to ramble on as she worked. "It's a day many of us have been looking forward to for ten years we have, he did the Wizarding world a great service by ridding us of you-know-who all those years ago, dark days those were. I hope he comes through here, I would be honored to serve such a hero."

Harry almost had to stop from stumbling, momentarily entertaining the hopeful thought that it was a different Harry Potter. But the clues kept on adding up, the goblins extraordinary treatment, the large amount of gold, and the black bandana. No, coincidences never happened to him and if he were a major celebrity then his plans just became much more complex and the importance of remaining unnoticed became that much more important and difficult. He would not trade abusive chains for chains made of gold and silk so easily, in his book he would still be bound and his freedoms limited. Independence did not come that easily.

"Would you like any charms on these dear? Self-ironing, beautifying, slimming, fattening, lengthening, temperature-adjusting it will only take a moment." She asked, interrupting her own dialogue as he finished picking out his robes. "Though such a lovely young man such as yourself hardly needs such cosmetic charms."

Harry just nodded smilingly at the compliment as he picked out several casual outfits and his school requirements. "Self-ironing, fattening, lengthening and temperature-adjusting on all of them please." He watched carefully as she pulled out a wand and started charming his robes, even the leather jackets, gloves and boots. When she had finished Harry stripped in the middle of the store to put on one of his outfits, he had no need for modesty, only time.

Putting on the robe he smiled grimly as the robe altered itself to fit his frame, once again reminding him how much he had grown in the time he had been missing who knows where. He did frown though when his stomach gave a few groans and the beginnings of hunger flooded his body. He had noticed a distinct enlargement of his apatite since he had awoken in the burnt out ruins and he was unhappy about that. His guardians surely would not feed him anymore and it would take forever to shrink his stomach again.

"That's going to cost you quite a few galleons, are you sure you want all of these dear?" He noticed that her smile never slipped even as concern tinged her voice.

"Of course, how much?" He asked as she gathered all his new wizarding wear together bar the outfit he was now wearing, and placed them into a bag much too small for them to fit, though they fitted easily. The non-wizarding clothes he had just removed where still good as well so he put them in with the other robes.

Madam Malkin's concern turned into surprise when he didn't even blink at her asking price, before paying from his money pouch and taking the bag of clothing from her. Nodding in thanks Harry slipped back out into Diagon alley thinking about what he had learnt from the woman's gossiping. He was apparently famous, ridiculously so, and would presumably be recognized wherever he went, or at least his name would be. 'So why haven't I been recognized and mobbed yet' he thought absently fingering the black cloth that remained wrapped around his head and thinking of the goblins comments and the off hand one from Hagrid.

His skills at remaining unnoticed were not that good. 'What could the black cloth possibly be hiding that would make me effectively invisible?' he thought. "Wait, of course," he mumbled "The scar." Growing up he had always assumed that it was his parents or his blood relatives that had given him his scar. He certainly had enough scars from uncle Vernon's beatings in other less visible places. It was the only explanation for the black cloth hiding his identity. Now he was dressed like everyone else, he was sure he would not be remembered in the alley and if what he suspected about his scar were true, there was no way he was taking that black cloth of his head in public.

Backtracking up the alley, Harry carefully observed the people crowding the streets, felt the atmosphere and listened to snippets of conversation. On its face, the wizarding world seemed remarkably carefree and cheerful. Greetings were shouted in the street and the sound of laughter filtered through the noisy background noise of the busy alley. Small crowds eddied around individual shoppers and those sitting at the silver tables of restaurants. He had already experienced Madam Malkin's friendliness towards an unknown albeit wealthy wizarding boy and guessed that he would encounter similar service in the alley.

Despite that, he knew that beneath the surface there lay serious divisions and tensions that just waited to be brought to the surface. He had witnessed it in the bank and he had extrapolated from what Madam Malkin had mentioned of the times a decade before. Just as he had realized earlier that he would no longer be able to rely on the behavior that had granted him safety in the non-wizarding world to keep him safe, he knew that in order to gain the power and independence he needed and wanted, he would need to be able to explore and maybe even exploit the tensions that bubbled just beneath the surface of wizarding society.

Harry has spotted a number of bookshops in the distance that he would need to investigate extensively. Jiggling his moneybag unconsciously as he thought of his newfound access to knowledge, Harry thought about all the books he could buy and services he could access to speed his journey towards full autonomy. He had a feeling that where once it was money and resources that he was short off, with plenty of time, now it would be time he would find himself short off.

Still, that would not stop him from buying as many books as he thought would be useful. No one would even blink at a small wizarding boy purchasing a dozen tomes on behalf of his family he thought, suddenly very glad that he had visited Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions as his first stop whilst he paid so much attention to the wizards around him. It was a perfect disguise and from what he had seen and heard passing through the alley a perfect cover story and hid his lack of knowledge about the wizarding world perfectly. People only saw what they wanted to see and on first glance he seemed no more than an eleven-year-old boy out on family business.

To seal that image though, he first needed a wand. Which was why he was currently backtracking through the crowds towards Ollivanders. Harry made a mental note to drop into magical instruments after he bought his wand. If he wanted to avoid attention, then carting a single bag or trunk behind him was far less likely to draw glances that having a plethora of bags and boxes advertising where he had been and what he had bought.

'Besides,' he thought 'I will need a trunk for Hogwarts.' He was determined to purchase the most secure one he could find as well. At least until he could add his own security features to the trunk as his knowledge of magic grew. 'No school yard snot or bully will have easy access to my things if I can help it,' he though viciously 'and who knows who else could be snooping around'.

Now he was reasonably sure that he would not be recognized, he felt himself relax slightly, or as relaxed as he ever became in public or otherwise. He was always prepared to reinforce his emotional masks if he ever ran into company or was surprised. Shaking his heads in exasperation he turned his attention back to his need of a wand.

'A wand,' thought Harry with derision 'why would anyone rely on a stick to perform something as powerful as magic.' Harry shook his head as he came to a narrow and particularly shabby shop front. Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC was displayed in peeling gold lettering and he could barely see the single wand lying on a purple cushion through the dusty window. His experience with magic however told him that looks could be deceiving, particularly when time and space were concerned, and as he stepped through the door he half expected the grungy shop front to be hiding a palace.

If you could only perform magic with a wand then anyone more powerful than you could deprive you of mastery over such an amazing ability, such a weakness was far too exploitable for his liking. 'Reliance on a wand – a disgustingly poor idea.' He thought in disgust as he stepped into a dim room that was not much of an improvement to the shop front and studied the thousands of boxes that were piled in seemingly random places throughout the shop.

'Was it a flaw in people's magic, or were wizards as backward as their clothing suggested?' Harry wondered. If everyone had to rely on a wand, a WAND of all things, to perform magic then the advantages of magic were limited. By its very name, MAGIC implied no limits. He looked forward to exploring that idea further once he obtained a wand.

"Mister Potter, I was almost afraid that you would miss out on the Hogwarts enrolment deadline." Harry jerked his head towards the pale-eyed, white-haired shopkeeper that had managed to creep up on him. "You are very important to the wizarding world Harry and missing that date would cause a greater uproar than you would know. Or perhaps you would." He remarked casually flicking the black cloth tied to around his head and obscuring his scar.

Harry willed his eyes to stop darting around the room and relaxed his face into a firm and misleading mask, glad that he had been able to ditch Hagrid but disappointed that he had allowed an adult to catch him out by sneaking up on him unnoticed. He was sure he would pay for that lapse of attention. Though he did wonder how the wand maker had done it, was it something to do with magic? Could he see through the cloth?

However he had done it, it was deeply disturbing and made Harry itch to find a better way to disguise himself, a task that suddenly seemed more daunting. Once again, Harry frowned at the twitch of hunger that he felt spread through is body, forcing him to ignore it. Food was not a priority at this point.

Harry blinked at the shopkeeper as he introduced himself. "My name is Mr Ollivander and I have been making the best quality wands in Britain for longer than you've been alive. Now what can I do for you young man."

"A wand of course, why else would I be here Mr Ollivander?" His face and voice were that of an inquisitive eleven year old but he got the distinct hint that Ollivander's piercing eyes could see through his deception easily. So far he hadn't called him on it but, it did worry him a little. Still even if Mr Ollivander could see through the cloth to determine his identity, he felt sure the man couldn't read his mind or read his expression.

"Why else indeed?" Ollivander questioned rhetorically as he started to gather boxes from the haphazard piles that surrounded him. "Willow like his mother? Very nice for charms work. But his father had a nice pliable mahogany one, then again he could do better with a holly wand. Yes, Yes, perhaps, but then it is the wand that chooses its owner."

Harry watched the man drift along around the shop until he came full circle and dumped a pile of boxes in front of him. Harry didn't mind waiting, the information he learnt was more important than the growing hunger in his belly or the wait for a wand. He had years of practice ignoring hunger and like the witch in the robes shop, he was learning things by merely keeping his ears open. "Well Harry, do you feel anything?"

Suppressing his sudden annoyance at the man, Harry looked down at the pile of boxes, wands he assumed, at his feet. What was he supposed to feel, to sense? He knew nothing about the magical world apart from what he had overheard and that had been little, and no one had told him anything, but he would not allow anyone to recognize his ignorance anymore than he would show off his intelligence and superior knowledge. Taking a closer look at the plain boxes in front of him he reached out his hands and when the man did not stop him he began to go through the boxes.

When he had just passed half way Harry felt a tingle run down his spine, if he had been superstitious he would have guessed that someone had just walked over his grave. Curiously he opened the box and picked up the creamy white length of wood. It felt comfortable in his hands, dense with even grains, it was a beautiful piece of carving. "Give it a swish then," Ollivander encouraged.

Harry nodded and casually gave it a swish, adding a little bit of a flick on instinct, not really knowing what to expect and almost dropped it in surprise when all four walls expanded tripling the volume of the shop he was standing in. He hadn't even realized that he was still thinking about the impossibility of having rooms that were bigger on the inside than the outside.

"Amazing, truly amazing. Just what I would have expected from someone who defeated the darkest dark lord in over a century at just twelve months old. Holly traditionally repeals evil and that wand is an eleven inch holy wand you hold in your hand. Supple with a single phoenix tail feather in its core, solid choice. But there is something you should know about that wand. It's only brother gave you that scar, and now I'm sorry I sold it. Still I always knew it would do great things, terrible but great. I know I can expect the same from you."

Harry reached uncertainly for his money pouch as he awkwardly tucked the wand into his sleeve. "No, no, the renovations you did to my shop more than pays for the effort that went into making that wand. You're welcome to it. Come back if you have any problems with it."

Smiling in thanks, Harry quickly exited the shop and headed to where he had seen magical instruments for sale. He was glad to get away from the man with piercing eye's and knowing face. He didn't like the feeling of someone dissecting him with their eyes, whether they were doing so or not. While his mind swirled with possibilities at his successful use of magic with his new wand, his stomach urged him to quickly finish his shopping. With the weight on his belt he saw little reason to go hungry.

As he left the newly enlarged store, Harry considered his new wand and his accidental casting of a spell. It had been surprisingly easy to cast, what had appeared to be a powerful spell judging from Ollivander's reaction, but he did not know how he had done it and he didn't want to risk miscasting anything or drawing attention to himself until he did. As such, knowledge about magic and the magical world had became much more important than it had a second ago, not that it hadn't already been at the top of his priority list.

Listening to gossip and stray conversations, watching how people dealt with others and reasoning social status from clothing only told Harry so much. Books he was sure would yield more information and the rest he hoped he could bluff.

Buying a magical trunk with as many security functions as he could manage was surprisingly expensive. Compared to the price of his robes, even with the charms in place and the value of other goods he had seen in shop windows it was hard to see how the trunk was so valuable. Yet, the passive defenses and charms, combined with the several large unadorned rooms that made up the insides of his trunk had almost emptied his pouch, still he felt it had been worth it. The shop owner had assured him that only the headmaster at Hogwarts would be able to bypass his security and only after considerable effort. Privacy was one thing he felt he needed above anything else going into a new environment and mixing with unknown people in an unknown culture.

When asked why he was spending so much money on his trunk or why he needed such an extravagant one, he had only replied that his parents had wanted him well equipped for his first year and his privacy assured. It fitted well with the cover story he had already established in case someone was tracking his movements through the alley and monitoring his purchases. Harry had half expected the shop owner to question him further, after all he had paid a considerable amount of money for the trunk, but to his surprise his bold faced lies were accepted at face value. He suspected that the man's commission on the sale probably helped him accept his story as well.

Focused as he was on the approaching book store, Flourish & Blotts, and his increasing empty and growling stomach, he had decided to forgo any additional window shopping. After all, with his fortune and understanding of the goblins it wasn't entirely unforeseeable that he would have plenty more opportunities to go shopping. It was time he felt short of now, no doubt Hagrid was beginning to question his willingness to allow him to go out alone and unescorted.

Slipping through the crowds, that hadn't lessened any as the sun sunk lower into the skyline of London, Harry stepped into the bookstore which was trading at a surprisingly brisk pace compared to the other stores he had visited or looked into. He idly wondered if book stores were usually as busy, having never been in one before that he could hardly compare it to a non-wizarding store.

Moving to a random shelf he started reading some titles, it appeared to be a shelf dedicated to charms, '_Achievements in Charming_', '_An Anthology of Eighteenth Century Charms_', '_Charm Your Own Cheese_', and endless more books on the subject. Finally after finding the standard text for Hogwarts, Harry picked up a few that sounded interesting and continued wondering down the isle.

Defense against the dark arts and transfiguration books added to his pile. After passing the history shelves and adding some interesting titles including, '_History of Magic, A_', '_Hogwarts, A History_' and '_Home Life and Social Trends of British Wizards Through the Ages_', Harry started to pile them into his trunk as he continued browsing, his pile had grown to large to cart around.

Reaching the end of his required text list and glancing uncertainly at his growing pile of books within his trunk, Harry deciding that he had probably picked out enough books to keep him going until start of school in a month's time. Staying under the cupboard would not allow him to do much else but read anyway, at least with his trunk he was going to have room to stretch out.

On his way to the sales desk he picked up the stationary that his Hogwarts supply list indicated he would need once classes started. Dragging his trunk to the counter he started unpacking his chosen books onto the desk, he was suddenly glad that he had avoided any books that bit or otherwise acted strangely to being touched or moved, no matter how interesting they looked or engrossing their titles seemed. Smiling disarmingly at the young girl behind the counter, he avoided her questioning frown and paid in gold.

He knew that it was unusual for someone his age to buy so many books, much less pay in cash-magical or non. From what he had seen of his classmates, his reading level and comprehension far out stripped theirs. But then, they didn't have his motivation or it seemed his intelligence.

Harry hoped that the sales clerk would quickly forget him and his overly large purchase as other customers swamped her. That or he hoped she reasoned it away somehow, making it unimportant in her mind. At least she didn't have time to catch all the titles to report it to someone, that would have been the easiest way someone could have kept track of his learning and he would not give that information to anyone.

It was a weakness in his plans, something that he would have to see about correcting, most of his learning came from books and so he needed to diversify his risk by spreading the sources of his learning out. That way, if someone were to spy on or restrict one source of education, he would have other sources to rely upon.

Loading all the books back in his trunk, Harry rushed to the end of the alley where the last few items on his list could be purchased. His stomach felt hollow, he could barely remember a time when he felt so hungry and he couldn't help but wish he had hurried his earlier shopping. His moneybag seemed dangerously empty but by now he had a feel for how much things cost in the magical world and the last few items didn't seem like they would completely empty him out.

Even if they did, as long as he had enough money to get a decent meal at the Leaky Caldron he didn't much care. He had large amounts of money in his vault should it come to that. Harry briefly thought about the last few lines in his Hogwarts letter that indicated that he might bring a pet to the magical boarding school, but he had stepped over and been annoyed by enough of them to dismiss that idea. 'Besides,' he reminded himself with distaste, 'uncle Vernon would most likely kill whatever I bought as soon as it came through the door, whatever it was'.

Reaching the end of Diagon Alley, Harry couldn't get out of Slug & Jiggers Apothecary quick enough. The shop was no larger than it looked from the outside, dingier than Ollivanders was and smelled of a mixture of bad eggs and rotten cabbage. Grabbing his necessary first year potions supplies and some of the more useful ingredients, that he had seen when he flicked through some of the more interesting potions books, he crossed the street towards the Caldron shop.

Despite the large range of cauldrons that he could see from the coble stoned alley, he was close enough to the Leaky Cauldron that the smell of food and the sound of revelry coming from the tavern. It was enough to make his overwhelming hunger seem almost painful.

Glancing quickly at the copper, brass, pewter and silver cauldrons and looking at the available charms that could be applied to them, his decision in the end came down to his much lightened money bag. He didn't have time or the inclination to go back to Gringotts for more money and he knew that anything too extravagant would just make him stand out in class more than he probably already would with his apparent fame. 'Besides,' he thought to himself 'I wouldn't know a good caldron from a bad cauldron if it bit me, and from what I have seen in the Alley today it just might.'

Throwing a medium silver cauldron in his trunk and fixing up the vendor, he made his way through a courtyard crowded by half drunken customers and into the Leaky Cauldron proper through a wooden door marked by a weather beaten but blank sign. He would have described the courtyard as a beer garden, but judging from the drinks that the customers were nursing, he doubted that the wizarding world drank beer.

The dining room through the wooden door at the back of the leafy courtyard was homey with a roaring fire at one end and when he turned back towards the door, a seemingly solid brick wall behind him. The disappearance of an escape route incase someone got violent unnerved him more than a little and the sound of heavy London traffic caused him to wonder about the apparent secrecy or wizards.

Quite aside from their ability to live in such close proximity to ordinary people and remain unnoticed, something that should have been child's play for such a powerful group, Harry wondered why they remained hidden. From what he had seen, even one of them could raise armies conquer the world with little effort. Together, they could rule with an iron fist, bending the laws of physics to ensure they remained in power. So why did they remain hidden in there own backward little world? Was there a limit to their power? He was glad they did but he wondered at their apparent lack of self interest.

Putting those questions aside for later, Harry wiped his face of all expression, instantly changing from a carefree eleven year old to the broken boy that Hagrid had picked up from the Dursley's. He had a month to merge the two personalities, but until then he could not afford to slip up and reveal more than he wished to those that would no doubt be watching him closely, now and in the future.

"'Arry," roared a partially drunk Hagrid. "Bout time yeh showed up, I was about to send a search party I was." Harry shuddered to think about what that would have involved and was glad that he had rushed the last of his shopping. He was very surprised that Hagrid hadn't let slip that he was Harry Potter yet and started a riot.

"Two large serves of tha' roast," Hagrid almost demanded of a passing waitress as Harry dumped his trunk and sat down opposite the giant of a man. If he had forgotten before how big Hagrid was, he was suddenly reminded and the mans drunkenness made him uneasy as he casually eyed the only visible exit at the front of the tavern, presumably which led into London, Uncle Vernon was at his most viscous when he had been drinking and he doubted Hagrid was any different. 'Surely he wouldn't try anything in such a public place though,' he thought with cold comfort.

"Get all yeh shoppin for Hogwarts then?" Questioned Hagrid, perhaps in an attempt to start a conversation, perhaps something more sinister. Harry guessed more sinister, suddenly reminded of his wizarding guardian and the treatment of his non-wizarding guardians and merely nodded towards his trunk, "of course, everything on the list," and plenty besides he added to himself.

"Good," Hagrid rumbled as the meal arrived. Glad of the excuse Harry tore into the meal, surprised at how fast he demolished the side of lamb. Glancing at the larger man, Harry gestured for the same again. He wasn't sure who was paying, but he was sure he had enough money and the first serve hadn't even seemed to put a dent in his hunger. Besides, he had learnt to eat when he could, as he never knew when or where the next meal would come or how large it would be.

Hagrid just grunted and growled with what Harry assumed was feigned disgust to get his sympathy when Harry tore into his next helping, "Didna those awful muggles feed ya."

Harry shook his head and ordered a third helping, amazed with himself. Where was he putting all that food? He doubted his stomach was big enough still he was still hungry and there was food here to eat, he saw no reason not to sate his hunger. "Well, it's a good thing that Dumbledore, great man that he is, booked you a room in this ere tavern. The Leaky Cauldron may not look like much but she is comfortable and it will get yeh away from those awful muggles, plenty food besides."

For a moment Harry couldn't hide the glee showing through his eyes, access to the alley, free reign to organize his finances and best of all, as much food as he could eat. His uncle and aunt and his brute of a cousin could rot for all he could care. So busy considering his plans, prioritizing what needed to be done before start of term and finishing of his third helping that he almost missed Hagrid continuing.

"I'll introduce yeh to Tom when yeh finish, and pick yeh up at the start of term. Can't have yeh missing the Hogwarts express now can we."

Harry couldn't help but think that since his introduction to the wizarding world all of his problems had been solved. Intellectually, he kept waiting for the other coin to drop but so far it hadn't and he was determined to make the most of it until it did. Harry completely missed Hagrid's face sag and fold into itself in great sadness at his expressionless face.

* * *

It took seven years to completely replace every cell within the human body and more than triple that to fully mature the average human brain, the immune system and multiple other complicated biological systems that had spend a billion years evolving. These systems needed years to fully develop past gestation and birth and if during that process the body did not get sufficient nutrients to fuel this development then sometimes irreparable harm could be done, shortening the life expectancy and forever limiting the bodies full potential.

When the trillions of nanites spread through 001-C's body they started to undertake the process that they were programmed for repairing any damage that they found and correcting faults both genetic and endemic and when finished, technologically enhancing the bodies own processes and where possible biologically improving them.

A precise and extremely efficient priority list was quickly computed based on the initial data calculated from their scan and was quickly enacted. Ocular tissue was repaired, diseased and substandard organs were replaced from the body's fat stores atrophied neuronal tissue re-stimulated. His immune system, a system that had degraded from years of starvation was subtly fixed and the hormone and protein balance that affected the signaling and general health of the body was re-optimized.

Before they could begin to enhance any function within 001-C's body, they found his magical core, which forever altered their programming and immediate priorities, spawning a massive data collection and analysis routine.

Under normal circumstances, once the damage of years of abuse had been fixed and gradual process of optimization and improvement would be undertaken. Yet, here was a system that was unknown to the vast databases of knowledge that they had been granted with, a system, which seemed subtly linked and integrated to all of the bodies other processes. It was a system which had been overlooked in its initial scans, and that was unacceptable to its programming.

Such an oversight seemed impossible to such an invasive and omnipotent piece of technology and yet it had occurred, forcing it's programming to take action. In a process of adaptation, the nanites developed the beginnings of intelligence between their previously individual parts and quickly recalculated a new set of priorities.

It was clear that the magical core needed to be rebuilt and optimized, allowing for continual improvement, rapid repair in case of any damage and rapid access by the trillions of nanites flooding 001-C's system. Yet such an action assumed a knowledge and familiarity with the magical core that it just did not yet have. Any modification of such an important, but unknown system to the hosts body could have dramatic consequences to the hosts viability.

It could not change or act against it's programming and so extrapolating from data it had collected since it had first discovered the host's core, it acted. Doing so had put an enormous amount of stress on the host's body, stress far exceeding expected parameters forcing the nanites momentarily back into their original programming, healing and repair.

This had caused another conflict in its programming; it should not have been able to damage the host. A trigger should have burnt all traces of it from the host's body first. With the limited awareness it had achieved so far, it added a few lines of programming to correct this fault. Such an ability to affect it's own programming would have been inconceivable before it's adaptation and integration into the hosts magical core. It would not hurt the host again.

Once all the damage obtained from the rebuilding and restructuring of the hosts magical core had been repaired, the budding artificial intelligence enacted two routines. The first routine was a systematic collation and analysis of all the information it had so far encountered on the bodies' previously unknown and unreported system. Not fully understanding the core had almost caused it to kill its host, an unacceptable outcome that would not happen in the future.

The second and by far the most important routine however was its data collection process. Having already determined that the system was not redundant to the host's survival and in fact extremely active and integral to the bodies function, the budding artificial intelligence made a leap in logic and started harvesting nutrients from the body's fatty stores to build more drones. These drones flooded the surface layer of the body's skin, set to gather information on the strange phenomenon.

It was rewarded with results and data instantly. Strange data sets surrounded the body, interacted with the body and even attempted to access the core. Shifting more and more resources to the collation, analysis and collection of the data in an attempt to understand such an all-encompassing system with the body, priorities such as the optimization and maturing of other functions took a secondary importance and were delayed in completion.

Suddenly the nanites where granted a gold mine, somehow the host had come into contact with something that was working to focus and strengthen the working of the core. All of its sensor drones in the top layer of skin were able to analyze the event in detail. This was a key to unlocking the secret of the host's magical core and allowing further tinkering to fulfill its broader programming. That of optimization, enhancing and repairing of the bodies' functions, including the recently discovered core.

Out of necessity the trillions of nanites found themselves pushing the bounds of their programming further, enhancing their computational power by redesigning and building new nanites from the bodies spare energy stores and working more closely together. This, combined with the millions of nanites integrated within the hosts magical core started to create an awareness that exceeded logic but furthered the creation of a powerful and knowledgeable artificial intelligence.

* * *

"Come," Albus muttered as a heavy knock sounded at his office door. From the timing it could only be Hagrid returning from Diagon alley. Not only would he be carrying the philosophers' stone but he would also have information on how Harry was. With the news of possible abuse, he was keen to hear what Hagrid had to say about the boy. The philosophers' stone wasn't nearly as important to his plans as Harry Potter was and he still held out the hope that the boy had not been abused and would still be the putty in his plans he had planned the boy to be.

"Lemon drop Hagrid?" He offered, gesturing for the half giant to take a seat on the huge padded lounge he conjured with a flick of his hand. Judging from the man's red face, soaking hanky and clenched hands the news wasn't good for Harry or his plans.

Tears dribbled down from the man's eyes as he noisily blew his nose in an already sodden hanky, "they destroyed 'im Albus. Such a happy baby 'e was too." Hagrid's damp beard was testament to the strength of the giants sorrow and killed all doubt of a happy outcome for his plans.

Out of necessity, the ancient headmaster of Hogwarts found himself once again mentally revisiting his plans for Harry Potter, the boy who lived, as he suppressed his irritation at the distraught half giant that strained his conjured chair to its limits. The chances of abuse within the Dursley household where looking more and more likely and that changed everything, but before he decided what needed to be done he needed more information.

Information that a man who had accompanied Harry shopping all day in Diagon alley could easily provide, reliable information about the boy, his past, his reaction to magic and the multitude of surprises that filled Diagon alley. What kind of boy was he, how far would he need to stretch his plans or would they all need to be redrafted?

"Aaahhh Hagrid, surely it's not that bad. Here, have another lemon drop, it will make you feel better." Dumbledore said consolingly, suppressing his impatience as Hagrid took a handful of lemon drops and started to regain his composure. 'He still didn't abandon his hanky though,' the old man thought in distaste at the snot filled fabric.

"It were terrible, those awful muggles were yellin' and rantin' when I got there. Tried to refuse me access to Harry they did, didn' wan' Harry to go to Hogwarts." Dumbledore just sat back into his padded chair and nodded at Hagrid to continue. If the boy had been abused, it was likely that the Dursley's didn't want to lose control over the boy and despite Petunia having a witch as a sister; she really didn't know that much about the wizarding world.

The possibility of anyone hating the magic world or magic itself would have been unimaginable for the aged headmaster.

"When I finally persuaded those awful muggles, I told 'Arry like you told me to and took 'im to the alley to get 'is supplies feh school." That was it, Albus almost growled at the distraught giant. To really understand how he needed to approach Harry he needed to know how he reacted to the idea of magic, how he reacted to the carriage, Albus was sure the Thestrals at least would have shocked him. "After that I booked 'im a room at the Caldron and came 'ere with the," he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, which to him was still an echoing boom, "package."

Albus reached for a lemon drop himself in an attempt to regain some measure of calm, over a decade of planning was hinging on him getting his first meeting with Harry right and he couldn't do that if he didn't have any information to go from. Perhaps Hagrid really wasn't the right person for the job. He may have been one of his most loyal follows, and extremely likable, which is why he picked Hagrid. But he wasn't the

smartest tool in the shed. "Yes, yes and a good job you did too, thank you. But Hagrid, what did you mean by the muggles destroying him?"

Prying information from a man that may not have noticed much in the first place, would prove difficult and would require finesse.

Hagrid gave a small sniffle as his eyes gained a slightly reminiscent look, "I remember when 'e was born like yesterday. Such a laughing smiling baby, as full 'o love as anyone can be at that age. None of that when I told 'im about magic, he didn't so much as blink. Just asked me what it meant, bein' a wizard an all."

Looking down at the philosopher's stone that Hagrid had retrieved from Gringotts Albus had to restrain himself from interrupting from impatience least he miss something important. "Why, it's all about doin magic I told im'," Hagrid said smilingly not noticing the momentary twitch on the headmasters face. "After that I introduced him to me

Thestrals, I think he liked 'im. I might show 'im some more of my pets when he gets to Hogwarts."

"Anyway, there's not much more ta tell. We arrived at the alley, got our stuff an' I booked him a room at tha Caldron." Albus smiled as he allowed small trails of legimacy to slowly wrap themselves around Hagrids surface thoughts. Any deeper and the half giant would notice even his intrusion.

"My thanks Hagrid, I hope you'll forgive and old man for not seeing you out. My bones you see." Images of an expressionless eleven year old with strangely bright eyes filtered into the Head masters thoughts as Hagrid shambled out of his office, thankfully taking his sodden hanky with him.

'So,' Albus thought 'the rumours of abuse are probably true. Which means that I will have to approach the boy with cotton gloves, no doubt he has resentment or fear of authority. Damn.'

Reaching out to the black liquor cabinet, Albus poured himself a double shot of brandy. 'Damn those Dursley's! But perhaps a month at the Leaky Caldron will help improve his character.' Albus took a shuddering gulp of his brandy as he thought of the hard expression and cunning eyes that graced the eleven year old Harry Potter that followed a feeling of his plans slipping out of his control. 'Damned Muggles.'


	4. The Ancient Art of Praestanti

**Title:** A matter of perception  
**Author name:** Kunglou

**Author email:** AU  
**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** An ancient prophecy, a rogue military arm and technological experiments of questionable ethics will all make for the biggest change the wizarding world has yet seen.

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from the use of these characters.

**Author notes: AU, OC, edited 23/05/07**

**Chapter 4: The Ancient Art of ****Praestantia**

Harry found himself surrounded by discrete packets of light, seemingly hardened globs of color that swirled around him against a backdrop of the blackest night. A sense of euphoria and wonder filled him as vivid greens and blues washed past him. They were not feelings that he was used to, and they were not feelings that he would normally feel.

It wasn't as if he were incapable of the more positive emotions that he was currently feeling, it was just that he often lacked the experiences that would facilitate feelings of optimism, well being and happiness. When the world was filled with sadistic bastards who were often out to get you, some who hid it more easily than others before they tried to screw you as hard as they could, and was generally such a cruel place to live, he had little cause to ever feel the euphoria and wonder that he found himself feeling at the sights of the glowing splashes of color.

In fact he couldn't remember ever experiencing anything remotely positive that hadn't had a sadistic barb attached to ruin the experience.

It had not been the first time that he had had this dream and he found himself once again feeling emotions that were outside his usual spectrum of understanding and experience. He had had this dream before during his stay at the Leaky Cauldron, a number of times before. Each time he had felt a number of positive emotions that were foreign to him, all at the sight of the swirling storm of colors. Only the similarity between the dreams allowed him to watch and analyze himself as the dream progressed. He had been overwhelmed within the dream the first few times, something that he had managed to overcome since.

As different shades of violet and orange bulbs tangled in his hair, Harry knew from past dreams that he was moving towards a centre, a middle where there lay a distinct lack of color, devoid of any movement or obstructing balls of light, devoid of even the colorful shadows that danced against the black background, indistinct from their more solid cores.

Apart from the varying emotions he felt at seeing the snowstorm of colors, the dreams had been identical, right down to the moment in which he woke up, interrupting the dream. He always seemed to awaken before he could see what lay in the centre of the swirling storm of colors, and there WAS something, he just hadn't had time before to identify it. Harry would have been annoyed if he hadn't had so much to do in so little time; it felt like there was something else that he failed to gain control over and it was very unsettling.

Like the first time he had had this dream, he could remember going to sleep in his room in the Leaky Cauldron surrounded by his books and various knick knacks that he had purchased in Diagon Alley and could remember wondering what the next day would bring and whether anyone had managed to track his purchasing habits yet. It would only be a matter of time and he hoped that the knick knacks he had bought would obscure any conclusions that may otherwise be drawn.

He first experienced the dream a week after he had been introduced to wizarding society and a week into his attempt to gain what knowledge he felt he needed to know to survive in this new world. Two weeks before he was to start at Hogwarts and time seemed to be slipping through his fingers far too rapidly for his liking.

It was both an exciting and daunting thought. His two persona's, his jaded, cynical and untrusting image and his naïve eleven year old mask, had slowly begun to merge, a situation made easier by a lack of any contact with Hagrid and he had begun dressing in the latest wizarding fashion, further enforcing the persona of a normal eleven year old kid who knew what an eleven year old knew and was worried about things that an eleven year old worried about. Not the sort of things that actually occupied his thoughts - power and independence.

Dispite how well that aspect of his act was going, there was so much information that he needed to go through about wizarding society and magic and he feared that all his plans would come awry on the first day of school. It was on the bed of these worries that Harry had first experienced this strange, now repetitive, dream.

Not having been long introduced, or as he had found out re-introduced, to the wizarding world, he doubted that such a strange dream was a coincidence. And so once the dreams had stopped overwhelming him, Harry had taken careful note of the carefree and positive feelings that filled him as he was surrounded by a maelstrom of colors and analyzed the swirling masses, trying to speculate whether he was moving or standing still amongst the great mass of colored balls as they danced and whirled in a random pattern around him.

It became more obvious as time passed, that he was approaching the centre as the randomness of the spin and rotation of the golden balls increasingly failed to hide their rotation around some larger centre.

Harry watched himself analytically as he reached out and grabbed a ball of color from its erratic path and watched dispassionately as it dissolved in his hand. The brilliant colored shadows previously emitted by the colored ball faded into the black background and disappeared. A momentary sadness filled Harry before he reminded himself that he was surrounded by millions of balls and that surely the destruction of one was no disaster.

And yet, even though there were a seemingly endless supply of yellow, red, green blue and every shade in between, he couldn't shake the feeling that something unique had been lost forever. 'Still, it is only a dream,' he thought 'and while ever I ponder its meaning now, I might miss seeing what is at the centre of this weirdness.'

It seemed that only the thickness of the swirling colors obscured the centre now. If the colors really were swirling in a spherical motion as he intuitively knew, the centre was just a little further. 'What the…', all of the euphoria and amazement he had felt since the beginning of his latest dream at the sight of the storm of discrete balls of color, suddenly washed away in surprised at the sight of what was at the centre.

Unlike previous dreams where he had woken at this point, he could now for the first time actually make out what lay at the centre. It looked humanoid apart from the twelve mechanical limbs that strutted out of the bodies back. Harry watched incredulously as the mechanical limbs juggled the balls of colors, grabbing new balls from the swirling mass and throwing old ones back into the blizzard, even changing the colors of some balls. It was almost as if it was acting like an engine in fuelling the storm of colors. 'How,' he thought in confusion, the single ball that he had reached for had disintegrated as soon as he had touched it. 'So how was this figure doing what it was doing and how was it powerful enough to control all of his?' Harry was awed by the scale of control that the figure in the centre seemed to have over such a massive body of colors.

Harry studied the figure's shoulder length black hair and heavily muscled torso. The mechanical limbs looked so out of place on the biological humanoid body that he couldn't help but stare and wonder what a strange dream meant. What did the figure represent? The swirling balls of a multitude of colors which seemed as attracted to his orbit as planets were to a sun? What were the colored balls representatives of? Did the colors mean something specific the shape of the balls, why spheres and not squares?

He had asked himself the same questions when he had awoken after the first dream, now almost two weeks later and a number of identical dreams later, he continued asking them. At first he had attributed the series of dreams to magic, it made a strange amount of sense and as he had begun to analyze his dreams more closely his views didn't change.

He had slightly disrupted his tight schedule of information gathering to study some divination books, it had only taken him a couple of days to seriously regret the time he had wasted in changing topics by incorporating such a frivolous and unreliable topic.

Two days were precious in his rapidly dwindling remaining free time. To have spent it on what seems to have been a body of literature designed to obscure the Art of Divination to all those but skilled seers seemed disastrous. Especially since he was not one step closer to discovering what his dream meant, excect that it probably had nothing to do with Divination.

On the more likely chance that it had noting to do with magic at all but rather some sort of suppressed memory or some other mental instability, Harry did not neglect catching up on the latest non-magical physiological studies either. As the dreams continued and his readings in Divination seemed like such a waste of time, his thoughts on his dreams seemed to lean towards the latter rather than the former.

Which seemed strange because he had always thought of himself as strong minded and focused, a skill that had increased after his kidnapping and year of missing time. Another benefit of his kidnapping, once again he suppressed a flash of annoyance at being unable to recall anything from his time away from the Dursley's but the same two images he had meticulously picked over for details.

Or perhaps it had nothing to do with the kidnapping at all, and more to do with a steady source of food and uninterrupted sleep. Dreams not included. Besides he knew from his reading on psychology that even the strong minded suffered from mental illness.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed the figure start to turn its head, but the shock of seeing its face he would never forget. The face was his own. That was something he had not expected and seemed to fill him with dread, the sight of his own face on that hybrid monstrosity struck a chord, evoking feelings he was deeply uncomfortable with.

It was enough of a shock that he found himself gasping for breath in his sweat soaked bed sheets in the Leaky Cauldron. The dim light of pre-dawn through his window told him more accurately than his clock how early it truly was. That latest detail confirmed it in his mind. Something was definitely playing with his head and he doubted it was magical, but some unaddressed deep seated need or flaw in his character.

'All I need,' he thought with anger as all traces of the positive emotions he had felt in the dream dissipated. 'Not only is the world out to get me but my own mind is breaking down as well.' Only the tight control over his actions and expressions prevented him from lashing out at his bedding in frustration, rage and not a little bit of fear. 'Just something else to fix,' he thought with finality.

Although, he could not completely rule out magic being the cause for his dreams, he simply did not know enough even after a month of dedicated study, that last image made him doubt that magic was involved. No, something else to be added to his list that needed to be addressed in his quest for power and independence.

Not one to lay about after waking, after all, staying in any one place for too long in his experience was to invite trouble, whether from a beating or something more insidious and hurtful in the long run was always questionable. Harry jumped out of bed ready to start the day. In fact he had never stayed anywhere for as long as he had in the Leaky Cauldron without something happening to him. He kept waiting for the other penny to drop or more likely something big and solid to kick him firmly in the guts.

His cupboard under the stairs had certainly not provided for any feelings of safety or security. Nor did his home provide those things, though he was hoping to learn enough this year to start providing those things for himself. And he had made a good start even a month into his new life.

Harry felt that in the month that he had stayed at the Leaky Caldron, he had done as much as he could do to put himself in a position where he could more effectively deal with whatever happened. In the short time that he had to himself, as unsupervised as he would ever be, he had made sure that he had learned enough about wizarding culture to bluff even purebloods in a short meeting.

He had drilled himself in five powerful spells, a locking charm, an unlocking charm, a powerful blaster and one of the more aggressive warding charms. The fifth spell and most important from his experience was a healing spell that would come in useful for any future beatings that he was likely to receive. Learning any more specific spells would have taken time away from his more general readings into the wide variety of magic's in use and that he felt would have been counter-productive.

While he was astounded and slightly apprehensive at the enormous body of literature available to him and the number of spells that he could learn, he felt that with such a limited time to ease himself into wizarding society before he entered Hogwarts, that his time learning more generalized information about the world he found himself in was an appropriate compromise in protecting himself socially and magically. The spells he had learned were some of the more powerful in their class and would be more effective if he ever found himself in dire need than ten less powerful alternatives.

Getting changed out of his clammy night clothes, Harry double checked the locking and warding charms on his chest of supplies and threw a quick glance around his room for the past month. To his knowledge no one had entered and searched his room, at least no-one who had set of his alarms but 'trust' was not in his vocabulary and definitely did not create any reassurance to his security.

It was a source of deep frustration that he just did not have enough time to learn what he needed to know. Once again he would be thrown to the wolves, though he was grateful that he had the time he had had. 'Besides' he thought slyly, 'I've had to learn to manipulate with the best of them and with the persona I've set up they will not be expecting that, so I'm already ahead of the game, all I have to do is stay there'.

In his room, his rumpled bed, assorted toys and interesting touristy knick knacks and a scattered selection of books belied the careful placing of those objects. Only the heavily warded chest stood out, but only to someone who knew where to look, and even that had soiled cloths draped over it. The seemingly hap-hazard placing of his belongings, at least those that he allowed others to see, was what Dudley's room had been like. If someone were to enter to search his room, they would see exactly what they were expecting to see, at least that was what he hoped they would see, not the careful planning he had taken to lay his room out like he had.

Tom, the inn keeper and the only one in Diagon Ally who knew who he was had promised to keep even the house elves out of his room for the sake of privacy. On the face of it, it looked as if he had kept his word and so far there had been no hint that Harry Potter had even been to Diagon Alley to pick up his school supplies.

Rumors and rhetoric had reached fever pitch, and he shuddered to think of what it would be like when he reached Hogwarts and his identity was released. He almost considered a brief showing in Diagon Alley just to avoid the circus he imagined would swamp his first appearance in the wizarding world.

Harry briefly entertained the idea that such an appearance would help to contain the situation and that it would help embed his care free naïve persona into the wizarding world but after some thought and some extra reading on the society he was slowly beginning to learn more about, he doubted that it would make any difference, it may end up worsening his situation, at least now he was only recognizable from his scar. A scar that was always hidden, in public and in private.

No, he would do as he had always done. Make sure he had firm control over what he could have control over and manage what he could not have control over as it came and in that respect things were making definite progress. He had a nagging thought about the goblins, the only hole he had allowed in his plans. But, he was satisfied that they were using him even as he used them. As long as it was in both of their interests, he was safe and he would make sure that there was plenty of redundancy in his planning where the goblins where concerned.

Finishing his cursory examination of his room and nodding in satisfaction, Harry left his room for his last meal before he was to meet Hagrid to leave for the Hogwarts Express. The red train would then take him to his new home for the next several years and allow him a first look at the peers he would be sharing his life with for the foreseeable future.

Harry made sure that his scar was well hidden and that a stupidly naïve smile was on his face as he entered the pub proper and greeted the bar tender and his host for the last month. "Tom," he yelled out boisterously "my first day at Hogwarts. I can't wait." The cheerful excitement was sugar sweet as the old, pessimistic and paranoid Harry was replaced by a new public face. One that he had slowly been molding and introducing to the Wizarding world.

The bald man stretched his wrinkled mouth into a toothless grin, and put down the glass he was polishing on the bar. "I bet you can't young Harry. Your breakfast will be with you in a jiffy, Hagrid called ahead to let me know he'll be on time to take you to the station. Why, I can still remember the first time I saw Hogwarts – A truly unforgettable sight."

Harry forced himself to bounce jubilantly to his usual table as Tom got his breakfast and started serving it. The serving was four times what he would expect someone his age to normally eat and he was once again glad that someone else was paying for his rent, although the thought that he was putting himself into someone's debt, even unknowingly made him shiver.

He had never really had a huge apatite in the past, mostly because of his shrunken stomach from being half starved. But since he had arrived in the wizarding world he seemed to be trying to catch up for eleven years of missed meals. It had created some unwanted attention, an eleven year old eating more than twice what a grown man would eat, which was why he had taken to eating before any other patrons came down.

Large plates of steaming hot roasts where quickly delivered from the kitchen in a casual display of the power of magic, a meal that would have taken hours to cook was ready to eat in minutes. "I added an extra serving for you Harry," Tom added while he added an extra plate to the table "it is a long train trip to Hogwarts and I don't want you doubting the hospitality of the Leaky Caldron and getting hungry."

Harry just grinned and started bolting down the large meal. The steady supply of food made a huge difference in the way he coped with the surprises that he was constantly facing in the strange new world where he had been dropped for a month. Not only was he putting on weight and muscle, his stamina was increasing and he found himself even more able to focus on problems and solutions.

If he had have known that a steady supply of food would make such a big difference to his well being he would have made sure that he had more food to eat than he felt he needed, even if it meant stealing three meals a day. Instead it had been a theoretical thing that had never seemed important compared to the practicalities of surviving.

It didn't take long for him to finish his meal, or for patrons to start drifting down to the common part of the pub. It was a signal for Harry to disappear back into his room to pack his carefully laid out room into his trunk ready for Hagrid's arrival.

He felt a strange tightness in his stomach as he dumped his more innocuous belongings into the top chamber within his trunk. This was the ultimate test, he would be revealed as the savior of the wizarding world and how he reacted and appeared to society, even with a closed one such as boarding school would shape his image for the next several years. And perhaps haunt him for far longer.

There was no time left to prepare he thought as he stared at the sun raising over the skyline of London. Hagrid would be here to take him to the train any minute and then…

Harry let out a shaky breath as a sharp pop of displaced air sounded behind him. "Master Hagrid is here Master Harry," the weedy and uncertain voice of a house elf announced from behind Harry's bed.

Forcing a grin on his face and picking up his trunk Harry nodded to the house elf, "well be all means, lets get going."

* * *

Lucius Malfoy sat aristocratically on a finely carved mahogany arm chair and stared deeply into the roaring fire that failed to warm the ancient chamber. His platinum blond locks fell loosely over his shoulders and his grey eyes glinted in pride. Another generation of Malfoy's was about to put their mark on the world.

The chair he sat in as he watched his only son disappear through the floo colored flames was the same as his father had sat in when he had gone through the same fireplace on his way to catching the Hogwarts Express and it was the same his grandfather had sat in and so on back through numerous generations of Malfoy's.

His blood was as ancient and pure as it came and his family was what he lived for. It was with a deep feeling of loss and shame that he lived in a world where muggles breed like cockroaches and blood traitors and mudbloods corrupted wizardkind's superior blood with the blessing of his own government.

He had tried all his life to stem the tide of that taint but to no avail. When he had begun to loose faith that things would ever change his master had come and everything had changed, for the better, for a while. Rubbing his left forearm, he pictured his master's noble face and smiled at his noble dream. Lord Voldemort had united those ancient families that felt as he did and the world had changed.

'Oh how it had changed' he crowed in delight, wizarding culture had been slowly being lost to the world of lesser beings, whose only advantage was that they copulated and breed like pests, spreading their diseased blood across the planet in mere generations. Condemned by the less informed of society, his vision had to be achieved by stealth, but one man could only achieve so much.

His lord had not only stopped that change, that decay, but he had actively reversed it and in doing so accelerated his dream to speeds unimaginable to him before Lord Voldemort's arrival. Lucius still relished the memories of freedom that had been granted to him and like minded pure blood families in the years leading up to his lords temporary set back.

The animalistic and hysterical screams of the muggles as he had exterminated them in mass, ripping them from there destructive behavior and doing his part to safeguard wizarding society and culture rang like a melody in his mind. His family would NOT grow and live in a world where they could see their heritage leeching away. But as many muggles as he and his contemporaries killed, it was a mere drop in the bucket to the numbers of muggles that infested the earth.

That was where his lord had been so inspiring, Lord Voldemort held the unique ability to unite like minded wizards across the globe. Something that he was in the process of doing when that Potter brat destroyed any chance that his son would grow in a world in which wizards were free to display their natural superiority. It was that reason, more than the temporary disruption of his lord's plans, that he hated Potter. The Potter blood was just as noble as the Malfoy's and even more ancient, it disgusted him and sickened him to his stomach that any pure blood was supporting the destruction of his world.

Lucius knew that his lord hadn't been killed that night, his mark had not disappeared as he knew it would if his lord had died. It had only faded, and it was once again gaining color and the accompanying feeling of power and strength that would fill him when he touched it.

As foretold, his lord was returning and his dream would once again regain its previous place in history along with the fear that his lord inspired. As powerful as his master was, even he wasn't powerful enough to stand up to the thousands of wizards world wide who paid lip-service to the governments that condemned him.

So in one fell stroke he single handedly created a profoundly deep seated fear of him and his organization in the general wizarding public, rendered the ministry even more useless than it had ever been and engineered the biggest reversal of wizarding decay in centuries. All by re-introducing the ancient art of Praestantia. It was a stroke of genius and ensured that he gained the loyalty, respect and support of the majority of pure blood families in England.

Ever since British wizarding society had the great misfortune to have it's historically most powerful practitioner, Merlin, a pacifist who believed in live and let live. 'A load of rot,' he thought with abhorrence at the very idea. The glorious and viscously devious art had slowly begun to lose favor. Merlin had not stood for it.

And the centuries after Merlin's death were no kinder to the art, with the ministry deifying Merlin and his beliefs it was just a matter of time before it died out completely, to the resentment of many pureblood families.

The founding of Hogwarts was the arts death knell, with Slytherin's attempt at it's reinstatement a disaster. He simply was not powerful enough to stand up to the other three founders who held onto Merlin's beliefs almost religiously, nor did he hold enough sway to gain the backing he needed.

But Voldemort had those things and something else Sytherin never had, an infection of muggles, blood traitors and mudbloods actively destroying the ancient culture of his people with the consent of the ministry.

Once again the ancient families fought for supremacy, superiority, _Praestantia_, among themselves but most of all against those that stood against them. And ART it was, it was not Praestantia if people knew how or why, it was not masterful or beautiful if they were sloppy. No, Praestantia was the ultimate psychological, political and magical test of wills between families to show who ultimately deserved the title of the most vicious, the most devious, the most powerful and influential family in history.

IT WAS GLORIOUS!!

Whole families disappeared never to be seen or heard from again, blood traitors suspected blood traitors and the ministry was relegated to the role it should have been assigned to in the first place. Wetwork. Hiding the bodies and evidence of the muggles killed and keeping the war, the wizarding society a secret until such a time as his fellow purebloods could exterminate them all from existence.

Those not with Voldemort FEARED him, and Lucius shivered in delight remembering it. His family had gained much prestige and excelled at the art but it had all come crashing down one Halloween night.

Lucius Malfoy ribbed the tattoo on his forearm once more before erupting from his chair with a feral grin. His Lord was returning and he had much to do.

* * *

001-C's body initially had a limited store of body fats to fuel the process of rebuilding and optimising the numerous body functions that the trillions of nanites had been programmed to achieve. When there was a greater need to obtain information and create new sensor drones from the limited resources available than to optimise and enhance the host, then there was a rebalancing of available resources, further slowing progress on enhancements. Even a rebalancing of the hosts hormone mix to increase hunger seemed to make little difference in the sourcing available fuel by driving the host's behaviour.

This limited the integrated and increasingly intelligent system's potential to act towards its programming since stripping to much energy from the host would impact on the body's viability, something that it would never knowingly do without risking total destruction. As such it had limited its actions to data collection, collation and analysis and slowed the pace of rebuilding and optimising the bodies own processes beyond a point of critical repair. A forced compromise according to its priorities based on latest calculated data.

But then its host came into contact with a steady supply of fuel that it could harvest at need. A supply that seemed to be able to be increased if needed, something that seemed unusual to the host's physiological history according to its interpretation of the signs of stress and damage to key bodily functions it had found. Signs that it had since repaired.

Still, it used this much needed supply of resources to rebuild the spare capacity of energy that it had stripped from the host in its initial actions of replication and consolidation within the host before it had ramped the speed of its own actions in fulfilling its primary task.

The trillions of nannites that floated through 001-C's body had not taken long with the new resources available to them to fulfil the preliminary sections of their programming. What caused conflicts within their programming, conflicts that increased as they were forced to further integrate and co-ordinate their tasks in a more intelligent fashion and as new information became available to them, that could not be resolved by the budding artificial intelligence nor the body of redundancy programming and information encoded by their creator, was the constant new analysis of the hosts magical core and it's interaction with all levels of its biological functions. And from what little information it had, interaction external to the host's body.

Even though it had rebuilt the magical core and enhanced all of the biological functions within the hosts body, a process that continued to take up processing power as the billions of information drones came in contact with new information and better ways to increase efficiency and viability, the reason that it had almost destroyed the viability of the host in it's initial action of destroying and rebuilding the new and unknown system had soon become obvious.

The magical core was much more invasive and integrated in 001-C's body and corresponding functions than previously calculated, and the shock to the body was far outside of error parameters. Even now, with the host functions operating orders of magnitude more efficiently, and resiliently, the impact of the magical core to the viability of the host was persistent and significant.

It had run numerous simulations and sought terabytes of raw data and had come to an unexplainable but unarguable conclusion about the operation of the magical core within the host's body. The newly discovered physiological system had been completely outside of anything that the nanites had been programmed to understand and its operation continued to defy logic.

There was no question that the core aided and to an extent enhanced, much like it did, in the health of the host's biological functions, but it was how it aided those functions that defied logic and its understanding of Quantum mechanics. And it was these conflicts that caused the irresolvable conflicts in its programming.

It knew from the vast databases of knowledge that it had been programmed with to aid in its programmed task that any universal event was possible, no matter how unlikely. A multiverse existed where all thinkable possibilities existed at once, existing on top of one another in a quantum waveform, no matter how unlikely the possibility it was possible, until the an event occurred destroying all other possibilities in the multiverse except for the chosen waveform, this was the foundation of reality.

Often a concept explained with the aid of Schrödinger's cat, the problem became more accessible. With the cat in the box, it was BOTH alive and dead at the same time. Only after an observer had opened the box did the possibility of the cat being alive or dead collapse leaving only an alive cat OR a dead one. Never both, the other possibility had been destroyed, never to have existed.

But some events were so unlikely that while they existed in possibility space, they would never happen even once in the age of the universe, much like opening the box to find a dog instead of the cat where one had once existed. The statistics of such events where as definite and logical as the reality of 001-C's existence.

Yet, all of the collation and analysis of information gathered externally and internally to the host on the effects of the unknown phenomena emanating from the hosts magical core suggested otherwise. Or at least suggested that the host held the ability to disrupt reality and deliver a dog in Schrödinger's box rather than the initial cat.

Somehow the magical core was messing with the possibilities of certain events such that the unlikely became likely and events that would normally never happen once within the age of the universe happened, repeatedly, in the same place. It was statistically impossible, and yet that was the power that its host held and controlled.

The new system it had found within its host, whether as its primary role or as a side effect to its evolutionary task, enabled its host to affect causality. Such a discovery prioritised the necessity of direct communication with the host. The potential of such an ability would aid in the fulfilment of its programming and HAD to be afforded priority.

Particularly with the additional lines of programming that it had itself imposed on itself to ensure the efficiency and resilience of the host. Those changes made contact all the more vital and the resolving of the conflicts in its own code more difficult. Still, despite the considerable resources it had committed over the last month and the pre-programmed data on the brains physiology and function it had yet to achieve direct contact.

Having millions of nanites in direct contact with the spontaneous and evoked field potentials within individual neurons and having the ability to hijack and influence them led the intelligence behind the machine no closer to accessing the fundamental physiological and patho-physiological functions that make up higher level brain functions and self awareness.

It would need access to these functions to be able to fulfil this task and over the last month it had made considerable breakthroughs to just that, but so far the precipice that would ensure direct communication and understanding seemed out of reach. Tapping into the hosts subconscious and influencing emotions was not enough.

Not knowing anything like frustration or patience or even fulfilment at its unique achievements the nanites continued to perform their programmed tasks.


	5. The birth of 001CSE

**Title:** A matter of perception  
**Author name:** Kunglou

**Author email:** AU  
**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** An ancient prophecy, a rogue military arm and technological experiments of questionable ethics will all make for the biggest change the wizarding world has yet seen.

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from the use of these characters.

**Author notes: AU, OC **

**Chapter 5: The birth of 001-CSE, edited 23/05/07**

Frank stared at the neat home in front of him with the landscaped gardens and the meticulously mowed and watered lawn. The house looked like it had just been painted and the windows glinted in the sun. It fit perfectly in the middle to upper class suburb of little whinging and it was a perfect disguise for the crimes that he was almost certain took place there.

The wariness in Harry's eyes still haunted his nights and he knew that he would not be able to sleep properly until he had solved the mystery of his abduction and possible abuse. Harry's resemblance to his grandson was too close to the bone and he couldn't help but think, what if. While Darren had done most of the leg work in Harry's case, Frank had seen enough of the files to know that Harry was unusual, even in his experience. And he had seen a lot of haunted faces, even ones that resembled children he knew outside of work.

Double checking the address, he shook his head in disgust and spat in the gutter, folk that were rich enough to buy anything they wanted but not rich enough to join the super rich club were the worst people to deal with in his job. Incredibly snobby and totally lacking in empathy for those in a lower class than themselves, they often tended to be more intolerant and unwelcoming to outsiders than most. Often thinking that the law and those lower than themselves – which were most people - existed to serve them.

Of course that was just a generalisation, but from what he had heard and seen of the Dursley's thus far, they fitted the stereotype perfectly. Flicking a glance at Daren, he approached the front door. Daren hadn't wanted to directly interfere in an area so far outside of their jurisdiction in an unofficial and unsanctioned inquiry, but after some intellectual gymnastics he had been convinced that they would be able to justify their actions to the higher ups of the legitimacy of their investigation should they find anything.

Results and convictions mattered in today's police force, besides the prospect of child abuses escaping the law just rubbed both of them the wrong way and since he was the more senior investigator, the majority of the heat would land on him and not Daren. Which made him even more cautious about how he approached this case.

"Well, are you going to knock chief or should I?" Frank grimaced, Darren was right – it was time to ratchet up his bluffing face or leave, and no answers would be forthcoming if they left. Knocking on the door firmly Frank waited for someone to get the door. He knew that they were home; the Dursley's were very regimented in their routine.

Flicking through the files he had on the family as he waited, Frank mentally went through what he knew of the family. Vernon and Petunia had both gone to private schools and had met not long after graduation. When Vernon's parents had died, his sister had moved to the country to breed dogs while he had inherited the family business.

He had done some checking about the family business as well. It was a business that barely treaded water and showed clear signs of a lack of good business leadership. The analysts wouldn't touch it with a barge pole and its shrinking market share boded poorly for its future viability under Vernon's stewardship. 'That can't be helping the home situation,' Frank grunted not for the first time.

Like Vernon, Petunia's parents were both dead along with her sister' Lily. It was this situation that lead to Harry living with the Dursley's in the first place. Due to no listed occupation, Frank mentally catalogued her as the primary care giver in the family. In an ideal world she would have been responsible for preventing or reporting future abuses, but he was not convinced that she was not involved in the abuse.

Her son Dudley was enrolled in Smeltings this year and had a string of bullying and other misdemeanor complaints against him from his last school. Frank grunted and hawked on the Dursley's roses, wishing he could have done that in front of them. Their files hadn't improved his opinion of the Dursley's, only worsened them. Fat bastards the lot of them, Harry was clearly the odd man out.

Surprisingly, there was only minimum information about Harry, and he had to really dig to get what he had uncovered. A mediocre student at best, he stayed out of the teachers way and had no friends. One teacher told him that she often wondered why they let such a delinquent enter the school at all, when there where specialist schools available.

When pressed by what she meant, she had become extremely quiet and refused to answer any more questions. What information he had managed to gather on Harry did not seem to mesh well with the little boy who had spent a night in the station.

He wondered why and what other secrets the boy held. Certainly his records did little to shed light on them.

Breaking his chain of thought, a large beefy man with almost no neck opened the door. Frank immediately recognized Vernon from the descriptions he had on the man and opened his mouth to introduce himself only to be interrupted.

"I will not have that Fre…" Vernon started aggressively, spittle almost striking Frank's face before Vernon recognized Daren next to him. He had been interviewed by the man barely a month earlier and clearly remembered him.

Vernon's face rapidly started cycling in color between shades of red and purple as he visibly swallowed his tongue. "What can I do for you officers?" His calm tone belied the tension in his solders and the shaking of his hands. Vernon had obviously guessed that he was a policeman from his association with Daren and it had unsettled him, that reaction just made Frank wonder what other crimes the man was hiding.

Frank spared Daren a quick glance, before he responded. "We're the officers in charge of Harry's case and we just wanted to check on him, is he in?" Vernon's initial reaction interested Frank and made him push harder than he otherwise would have.

The sudden grin on Vernon's face looked forced and his eyes crinkled as if he was about to say something unpleasant. "Harry has been enrolled in a very prestigious boarding school in Scotland; term should have started by now, he'll be gone for most of the year."

"Really, what is its name? I am familiar with most of them and the case would look much better with the 'T's' crossed and the 'I's' dotted." Frank could spot the shiftiness in the man's eyes a mile away and Daren's shuffling feet indicated that he could too.

It was entirely too convenient that he had been sent to a boarding school with no forwarding address and without any notification to the proper authorities. He was sure he would have heard of it if there had been.

"Who is it honey, it's almost tea time and our duddy-kins is hungry. Get rid of them!!!" Franks eyes narrowed at the haughty tone of Petunia coming from within the house. Alarm bells were ringing and Frank would not ignore them or leave before he got answers. It sounded like Harry was in danger and he would not just let him fall between the cracks. It wasn't often he got a chance to do his job the way he would have liked and he wouldn't let a bunch of fat, white, rich folk stand in his way.

It bordered belief that after being missing for a year, his aunt and uncle had apparently sent their nephew to a boarding school in Scotland when their own son was going to the local one. Vernon was lying about something and he was sure he had been about to say "will not have that Freak" No, his finely honed criminal meter was redlining and he would get to the bottom of it.

Before Vernon Dursley could reply to his wife or begin to ask them to leave, Daren broke in shaking his head in false sympathy. "Vernon, we can come in now and have a small chat or we can come back later in uniform. Imagine what the neighbors would say to that. Two visits in a month."

Frank suppressed a feral grin as the cycling of colors in his cheeks and the tenseness in his shoulders came back. "Alright," he said gruffly, leading them through the front door, "come in. But be quick we are about to eat and Dudley needs his nutrients."

Frank smiled politely and followed the heavy man into the house. His eyes carefully scanned the spotless rooms and the shinning surfaces. Inside was as neat as outside. Walking past a staircase, with its locked cupboard, the two detectives were lead into a dining sitting area and Frank caught his first glimpse of Harry's aunt Petunia.

She was just as Harry had described her, tall and thin with a long neck. She stood about a head taller than her husband as she bustled around the kitchen. Frank counted two ovens and asked himself, 'who needed two ovens?' Before mentally shaking his head at the wastefulness of rich people.

As they entered the room proper, Petunia directed a sharp glare at the three men. "Dear, the two detectives overseeing Harry's case have a few questions." Frank suppressed the interested grin that threatened to bloom at Petunia's disgusted expression at the mention of her nephew – it didn't win her any points from him and it pleased him to know that he was right. Something was definitely going on here, and he wondered why any mention of it was missing from the case files.

"Dudley, go to your room and play your computer until dinner is served." She suddenly demanded of the obscenely overweight, pre-teen that lounged on one of the coaches.

"But I wanna hear what they have to say about the freak," the boy whined. Causing his fathers face to go beet read with splotches of purple down his neck. Frank didn't miss the whitening of the large mans knuckles either as he yelled out, "don't try me boy. Room, Now!"

Dudley rolled out of the couch with a look of extreme discontent and slouched off down the hall, while Petunia turned of the ovens. "Would you like some tea detectives," she offered gracefully, ignoring or not noticing Vernon's anger. Neither options offered pleasant answers to the two detectives.

"Of course, if it's not too much trouble," he replied easily as he and his partner sat down on the couch that Dudley vacated. Frank watched as Vernon sat opposite them and waited for the tea, visibly calming down.

The fact that Dudley had referred to Harry as a freak so casually was almost all he needed for confirmation of Harry's abuse. Such emotional degradation was very common in abusive households and were commonly accompanied with physical abuse and Vernon seemed to have a very lose reign on his temper. All he needed was solid proof that he could use to arrest them on. A smoking gun so to speak.

"Ahhh, do you mind if I use the toilet Petunia." Daren asked abruptly from where he was sitting and Frank watched as he snuck off in the direction that Petunia indicated. He could always rely on his partner to dig up some dirt discretely. Enough that he would be able to assure himself a result when he came back with a warrant and a truckload of uniformed policeman just to spite the man.

"What's this about then detective?" Vernon blustered over the chinking of the china tea set. His eyes were still twitching and although his hands where covered on his lap, nothing could hide the small shivers from his experienced eyes.

"As I told you at the door, we're just crossing the 'T's' and dotting the 'I's' on Harry's case. Now, what school did you say Harry was going to in Scotland?"

"Hogwarts detective, my sister went there." Franks eyes swivelled to Petunia as she laid out the steaming tea – English breakfast from the smell. "I can get the headmaster to contact you if you would like." Petunia's casual manner didn't accurately portray the tenseness of her voice.

"Really could you? People who have been kidnapped or missing for long periods of time sometimes find it hard to adjust." The old detective nodded gratefully as he picked up his cup taking a deep breath of the earthy aroma. "Is there a reason that you sent him to Hogwarts," Frank frowned, he had never heard of a Hogwarts before, "rather than Smeltings with your son?"

In fact it seemed strange that they separated the boy's. He did not for a second doubt that they had the money but it seemed very suspicious, especially since it involved the school his dead mother went too. Harry's parents were even harder to find information on than he was.

Vernon breathed in as if he was about to spit a reply but swallowed whatever he was going to say when Daren walked back in, nodding thankfully and heading straight for the tea set. "It was what Lily wanted before she died."

"mmmm… you make a lovely pot of tea Pertunia," he mumbled as he took another sip from the fine bone china cup in his hand in an effort to cover his thinking. The two Dursley's where definitely hiding something and he didn't believe for a moment that the boy was anywhere near a private boarding school, at least not one they paid for.

Then there was the tenseness, the shifting eyes, and the classic dodges. He had not missed Dudley's reference to Harry as a freak, nor the look of disgust on Petunia's face when Harry had been mentioned. But he doubted that he would get anymore information out of them tonight and he was eager to find out what Daren had found while snooping.

Even though his face was stiff, Frank new Daren well enough to know that he had not found anything urgent enough to disrupt the illusion of what they were trying to do. But if the stiffness of his face was any indication, then he had found a smoking gun. Frank was sure that his handcuffs would loosen a few lips.

Tipping his head to Daren, he leaned back into the corner of the couch while his younger partner started asking the Dursley' questions about life in Little Whinging. They would leave as soon as they finished the tea. He had felt enough of the vibe to confirm any suspicions he had, all he needed was enough information to get a warrant. He was hoping that Daren had gained enough of that on his way to the bathroom.

"Well, thankyou for your time, I am sure we will be in touch and I am sorry that we disrupted your meal for nothing."

Vernon shot to his feet and started pumping their hands, "no problem at all. We appreciate the effort you went too to return Harry to us. Enjoy the rest of the night." Frank smiled bemusedly as they were both hurried out the door and quickly shut out of the house in a manner that was borderline rude.

"So, did you find anything interesting," Frank chuckled as he imagined what sort of dirty secrets such a rich, pompous family might have tried to hide from his sticky fingered partner. One look at the younger man shut off even that low chuckle.

His partner looked shaken, and it took a lot to shake such an experienced officer. "I found his room." Frank's face took a disturbed hue on the trip back to the station as Daren detailed the scene that he had found. As soon as he got back, Frank would fill his diary and apply for a warrant.

It was worse than he thought and he was determined to get the ball rolling on that warrant. It was obscene that people like the Dursley's existed.

Despite his new convictions that night, the dawn would see his diary misplaced and any suspicion of the Dursley's treatment of Harry erased. All memory of the unofficial investigation vanished.

Frank wouldn't be able to remember or find his diary for more than a year and a half, but when he did, that event would forever change the world.

* * *

Harry tensed as Hagrid closed his large hand over his shoulder and shoved him at the stone pillar between platform nine and ten of London station, with only a slight mention of believing. 'Believing in what,' Harry scoffed bitterly, bracing himself for a crushing impact that he was sure would prove painful, already anticipating the feel of broken bones and severe bruising. It was a pain he had had more than enough experience with without experiencing more of it.

The sudden violence was so sudden and unpredictable that he had not even had a chance to escape from the larger mans grasp, or even attempt to, before he had been forcible thrown at the stone wall. Considering Hagrid's size and mass, he was not sure how successful his attempt at slipping from his grasp would be. It was a harsh lesson to learn, but he had relaxed his guard slightly around Hagrid, certain that whoever he was taking orders from would not like to see him hurt or injured. At least in the short term, and like most lessons in his life he had been painfully taught otherwise.

He would or could never completely relax, Hagrid was too large and had too much of a capacity to seriously hurt him. Even more so than his uncle had been, but his new mask seemed to relax Hagrid, made him happier, more accommodating in his trip from Diagon alley to the London train station. So he had relaxed his guard somewhat to take close attention of his surroundings, taking careful note of the route and the reaction of others to Hagrid's large size.

Harry had already dismissed the thought that perhaps Hagrid was also putting on a mask, he had already categorised the giant of a man and dismissed him as a non-threat. At least in the short term, he seemed to be following orders to get Harry from A to B and report all the information he could. In Harry's opinion, unless Hagrid was far better at his job than he seemed to be, whoever was giving orders and collecting information on him had made an error in judgement.

From that perspective, he felt he almost deserved to be slammed into a brick wall, and it would be a lesson he would never forget. Never underestimate someone, no matter how stupid or simple they appeared. He was doing his upmost to appear no more than a naïve and happy eleven year old boy who had little knowledge of the world that he now found himself in and would happily take full advantage of those that fell for it.

It was all about survival and the gaining of enough power so that he would not have to put up facades and manipulate in an attempt to avoid the cruelties and viscousness of people. But until he did, he would not hesitate to screw people as hard as they tried to screw him.

Just as he was about to hit the wall however, a small tingle seemed to reverberate through his head and he found himself stumbling under a cast iron arch proclaiming a welcome to platform 9 ¾.

Dismissing the tingle as a by-product of the magic that disguised the doorway into the platform he immediately replaced his stiff and controlled expression with one of excitement, forcing all the tenseness to leech out of his body. Harry cursed his instinctive reaction and hoped that no one had caught his slip, if they had the game was over before it had begun.

Particularly if Hagrid had seen the naïve and excitable eleven year old slide away as he braced himself for impact. That man would no doubt report such a thing as soon as he could and that would put a major kink in his plans. Those he particularly wanted to be relaxed around him would be wary, making it harder for his activities to go unnoticed.

Once again the eleven year old boy who was still a little clueless about the world he now found himself in he quickly moved from under the arch and into the crowd. Harry forced himself to gawk like an idiot at the owls and cats and other wildlife, casually stepping over a toad as he mingled and became lost in the crowd. Parents tearfully farewelled their children and groups of children gathered noisily up and down the platform.

It was the best way to avoid unwanted attention from those who may be watching.

His eye carefully took note of who associated with who and their reactions. This was where he would get his most valuable picture of the power structure of his new school. Which kids where in charge, which ones were bullied and which ones stayed in groups to avoid notice? Who would be easily manipulated to provide scapegoats and detract attention from his activities? Personalities would be more guarded at school and he was very careful to take the opportunity to assess his future school mates.

He also kept his eye open for others who were doing the same, they would be who he had to keep a careful eye on in the future. Hopefully his own study was overlooked as nothing more than excited gawking from someone who still found all of this new. He'd had experience pulling off such a look and was sure that today would prove no different, still he was careful.

Such information would tell him who he would have to be careful around, or at least more careful than usual.

Dragging his trunk through to the train, Harry contemplated the coming new year at Hogwarts. He would have to scout his new school grounds and mentally plot any and all potential escape routes. It would take some time, especially if the school was as big as he had read and would be his first priority.

Unlike his old school, he would be free to break in his new peers with the benefit of years of experience in manipulation and psychology. That should give him the advantage he needed to be able to follow his own agenda without worrying about over watchful teachers, parents or immature children.

He doubted that it would be a problem to remain an unknown in the class room as long as he paced his results to fit into the middle of the class. Teachers only paid attention to their best students or there worst. The only potential problem he could see was his status in the wizarding world.

Here on this station, at this very moment. His identity was hidden by a strip of cloth and a carefully constructed persona designed to hide his past and abilities. Once his face was known to the media, no mere scarf would shield his privacy. Another more reliable method would need to be found, and quickly.

Oh, he was sure that access to the wider wizarding community would be slightly limited while he was at the school and that the teachers would be too professional to show overt favouritism. But even that protection would be reliant on the headmaster and was not anything he could personally control. That had to change and quickly, perhaps it was something that the goblins could help him with. Though asking anymore of the goblins than what he already had made him carefully consider the implications of bringing himself further into their debt.

No, he would need to find his own solution to the problem. Like he always had.

Looking around at the students interacting he was suddenly struck with the perfect way to avoid any notice, to slip through the cracks at Hogwartd. He had read more than enough of 'Hogwats a History' to know about the house structure and how that effected school dynamics. If those dynamics suddenly became more volatile, it would just make sitting under the radar much easier. Particularly if the teachers and other traditional authority figures were too busy dealing with teenage rivalries.

He doubted anyone would get hurt, but it would hide his activities nicely.

The antique train whistled, emitting a torrent of steam causing Harry to once again mentally sneer in disgust at the antiqued and backward nature of the wizarding world. For all their apparent power, they limited themselves to this. If he had the casual power that these people seemed to have then he would have been riding to school in something VERY different.

To anyone watching, the boy in the bandanna merely laughed happily at the display and the jet of steam before boarding the train. His mask successfully hiding his thoughts and meticulous evaluation of the crowd waiting on the platform.

No, the only reason he could possibly see of making all the students travel to the London underground and catch the Hogwarts Express form platform 9 ¾ was for the exact reason that he had carefully noted any and all crowd dynamics. It gave someone the opportunity to see how the students behaved outside the careful observation of teachers or other adult authority figures.

It was a good idea, and one that he would have utilised if given the opportunity. But even as carefully as he had studied the crowds, he could not see anyone, even discretely, watching events. He assumed that what ever method that they were using to spy on the students where either magical or technological in nature. However it was done, it was a clear warning not to relax his guard for a second even if he thought he was alone.

Harry was looking forward to the day when he held enough power to drop all his masks, but he knew it would be a long time yet. Even by wizarding standards eleven was just too young to hold any power or influence, even for a pureblood that was the last of his line.

Dumping his trunk and shutting him self into an empty cabin, he flopped onto the padded bench with relief at finally escaping the mayhem of the platform. It wouldn't last long, as the train filled up and the purpose of having to ride an antiquated train to a magical school in Scotland would be revealed but he treasured every second away from the crowd on the platform. Even if there was the possibility of him being watched without his knowledge.

With the years of experience he had had plumbing the depths of human cruelty, he still could not understand how people allowed themselves to appear as open as they did. Sure it made it easier to predict their actions and manipulate them to his favour, but surely they would have developed more of a survival sense by now. Then again, he was doing exactly the same thing by presenting an open façade to the world while secretly plotting. So perhaps it was the natural thing.

Harry jerked as the door slammed open, making way for a trio of eleven year olds. He smiled openly as they chatted and exclaimed excitedly about Hogwarts. It was to be a long journey and Harry did not feel the need to introduce himself or join in their rough housing and boastings unless they actively included him.

He had no doubt that someone had done a background check on him by now and it wouldn't do for him to be too outgoing. A complete personality change would be too suspicious and it would be completely understandable for someone of his background to be a little shy.

The two boys and a girl occupied themselves by telling stories about their parents' days in Hogwarts and their casual knowledge of magic told him louder than words that they were purebloods and had known each other for years. Combining their stories with his knowledge from Hogwarts a History allowed him to draw a lot of conclusions about the school, and life there.

It allowed him to spend his time thinking about how he was going to proceed from here. Although without knowing how he was going to be sorted or which house he would be sorted into, it was necessary to think about four broad plans of action which could be quickly refined once he was sorted into a house.

If he were sorted into the red and gold house of Gryffindor, which was known for its courage then he would need to mould his persona and start displaying characteristics that other would have expected from someone of that house. Even to the extent of attacking Slytherins, which would be less conspicuous than being a quiet Gryffindor that avoided his house mates.

On the other side of that coin, the green and silver house of Slytherin, known for it's cunning, would make his actions all the more critical and carefully planned. His plans would be that much more difficult to hide in the house of Slytherin from what he had read about that house.

It would be better for him to be able to slide into either the blue and bronze house of Ravenclaw or the yellow and black of Hufflepuff. Neither house seemed to attract the attention of the other two. Such a placing would also prove more problematic, any activities that did not conform to the usual behaviours of those houses would be like waving a flag.

Still, if it were true that the placing reflected characteristics already demonstrated by the student to be sorted, then the likelihood of him being sorted into Ravenclaw or Slytherin became more likely and any plans that he had thus far made reflected that probability.

As the hours ticked by, Harry occupied himself by staring out the window, watching as the countryside of England and later Scotland whizzed by. He could also discreetly keep an eye on the conversation next to him through the reflection in the glass. They had made no effort to introduce themselves to him and he didn't much care.

He did see one of the boys discretely turning a thin golden ring on his right finger by half a turn as a sign that he was a pure blood of significant status and a clear sign of his affiliations but in keeping with his ignorant façade Harry causally ignored it. If the boy wanted to make something of his attempt at imposing any sort of hierarchy on Harry then he would make sure to take him on at Hogwarts, away from any spying eyes.

They boy didn't, nor did his friends. In fact, except for a young girl with some sort of forgettable Shakespearean name almost demanding if they had seen a toad and a lady selling sweets midway through their trip, the journey to Hogwarts was surprisingly event free.

Even the small groups of boys trawling the train for signs of Harry Potter avoided their cabin. Harry assumed it was because of the status of his companions.

When he felt the train slowing though, he casually put on his robes, hyper - aware of their high quality in comparison to his companions. It certainly gave the boy who had been twirling his ring like an idiot something to think about.

Harry could almost hear the boy wondering if he had purposely ignored the sign because his own social status stood far above that of his own. 'Let him wonder,' he thought maliciously as he grabbed his trunk and made to leave the train, ahead of the other fools he had shared the trip with. He would have loved to get a picture of their faces when they found out who he was.

Grabbing his trunk and exiting the train with the hordes of other students all pushing excitedly, eager to get to the great hall where he had read a spectacular feast awaited them. Rather than follow the older students to the fancy thestral led carriages which would, he suspected, take them directly from Hogsmede station to Hogwarts, Harry followed the booming voice of Hagrid calling for the first years to gather around him.

Still smarting over the larger mans actions at the station from earlier, Harry mingled with the other first years missing the wave Hagrid threw his way. "Alrigh' 'op in then," Hagrid boomed to the first years, as he started assisting them into the boats that lined the giant lake just opposite the station.

Once everyone was loaded into a boat, they started to float across the vast lake in the direction the carriages had flown. From what he had read, the lake trip was the traditional way in which first years where inducted into the school. Almost like a right of passage, though judging from the expressions of those around him he doubted many knew of the giant squid that lived in the lake.

Again ignoring the other children that crammed into his boat, Harry eagerly peered in the direction of Hogwarts. Although it was described in his books, it was also mentioned that no mere description could do the castle justice. Besides, except for Diagon alley, he had not seen much of the Wizarding world and he was interested in what it would be like. Would it be similar to the wizarding arcade, or as different as the muggle world was to Diagon alley. The casual power that wizards seemed to wield meant that it could be anything they wanted and the details would tell him a lot about wizarding society.

He really hoped he wasn't disappointed.

Suddenly the castle appeared in front of them, dwarfing the children laden boats with its size. Harry did not have to fake the amazed expression on his face, though he carefully hid his admiration and appraisal of the castle. It was everything he expected it to be and more, a clear statement of the power of wizardkind and a not so subtle warning to any possible enemies.

The main castle was seven stories tall with towers and turrets extending that to ten. Massive battlements weaved along even larger defensive walls and other fortifications in a gravity defying manner that further emphasized the power of its creators.

Harry suddenly wondered what other deadly defenses he hadn't spotted and shivered at the thought of anyone trying to attack this place. He had no doubt that as formidable as the physical defences were, there would be a layer of magical defences that was equally as lethal.

Still, he wasn't disappointed and the castle demonstrated that the wizarding world was not always as passive as it was today. War had likely played an integral part of its history.

He couldn't help get the impression that the children that surrounded him on the lake only saw the lights shining from every fortified window and decorations put in place like velvet disguising the steel glove in an attempt to replace the sinister ambiance with a more welcoming one completely missing the magnificence of the statement Hogwarts was making. He pitied them.

When the small boats finished their journey across the large lake, he joined the crowd of excited first years in front of the large reinforced doors. The large Hogwarts coat of arms stood as a stark reminder of the schools history and dominance. "Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus," he muttered to himself, reading the school motto "Never tickle a sleeping dragon, how droll."

Judging from his first impressions of the school and the history behind it, he well believed that Hogwarts considered itself a sleeping dragon. Keeping half an ear on the speculative whispers around him on how the faculty sorted its new students, Harry watched Hagrid bang on the heavy doors with an almost ceremonial air, before leading the children into the great hall through the newly opened doors.

A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood before four tables all decked out in house colors and nodded firmly before leading the children further into the hall. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross and definitely someone to be very careful around.

She reminded him of an elderly teacher in his primary school, far too used to seeing through masks. 'Definitely very careful around that one,' he thought.

Screams surrounded him as some ghosts floated through the new students, forcing him to adopt a startled look. It was very obvious that someone was trying to gain the measure of the new students.

Something that might be used to sort students, but more likely just as a way of gathering information for other nefarious agenda's, it was a good plan but he could see right through it. It made him wonder what lay behind such an obvious plan.

Standing to the side, the tall black haired witch pointed at a three legged chair with an old, patched, heavily frayed and extremely dirty top hat that had been placed with obvious care. As the noisy chatter quieted around the massive hall, his alarm bells were starting to ring.

'Something very strange was…' his suspicions were interrupted when the hat spouted into song, a welcoming ditty for the new students. His uncertainty about how students were to be sorted was answered and the solution was so simple Harry berated himself for not guessing in the first place. Of course the wizarding school would use a magical solution. After all he had seen more than enough evidence of wizards over reliance on magic.

Although from the other first years speculation he could appreciated the humor in not telling new students, with being a victim of many hazing rituals in the past he just nodded in understanding.

The new students started being sorted, starting with A, the stern witch alphabetically worked down her list, calling on students to put on the hat and waiting for the hat to pass judgment. Sometimes the hat would decide quickly, sometimes it would take longer and Harry tensed as his name approached.

He was uncomfortable not knowing what the hat was doing to make its decision. His time at Diagon Alley had taught him enough about magic to know that physical contact was required for the more powerful magic's.

"Harry Potter," She yelled and the cheering and applauding that had lingered after each student was accepted into their new house ceased. The silence was deafening as he careful removed the strip of cloth that adorned his forehead, exposing his lightning shaped scar to the school body and forced himself to smile self consciously when he instinctively wanted to revert back to his emotionless and cunning shell at the increasing whispers that spread across the hall.

But with so many people watching, that would ruin all his plans. He particularly noticed that on the staff table, his name had caused considerable interest. Sitting down slowly, Harry reached for the hat and had barely put it on when a yell of "Slytherin" came almost shrilly from the hat.

The sound of shocked and fearful silence was almost as loud as the expectation and anticipation that had preceded it. Glasses smashed and cutlery clattered before the green and silver table erupted in a loud jeering cheer. Harry just shrugged unknowingly and proceeded to sit at his new table, he had expected some sort of reaction, for now he was more interested in finalizing some of his plans and enjoying the rapid rise in the endless rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin at his placing. No doubt the former house had been expecting his placement due to his family history. 'What a shame.'

He never noticed the pained expression coming from Severus Snape nor his bleeding nose. And when the oily haired man vanished from his spot at the teachers table, only the headmaster remarked.

Harry was more than occupied enough mentally going through his plans and counter plans now that his new house was decided.

* * *

When the nanites were first absorbed into their host, their creator had insured that each unit contained a library of information containing the latest information in a wide range of fields. Information from the fundamental sciences, physics, chemistry, and biology added a further depth of understanding for the nanometer sized machines in the fulfillment of their programmed tasks. All manner of technology no matter of practical or impractical lay within the last stores of data that was as integral to each nanites as DNA is to a cell within the host's body.

Such information was necessary because the human creators could not possibly predict every eventuality, and possible technological upset. Nor could they predict what information may prove vital to the host's survival. But even with the extraordinary encryption mechanism that allowed terabytes of data to be stored and accessed by the tiny machines, it was never intended to all be accessed at one time. Nor was it intended for that information to be accessed by any single nanite.

Each nanite had its individual task to complete which meant that, processing speed and access times could be sped up with only a limited access to the databases. This led to efficiency gains of orders of magnitude, the only reason that each nanite contained the full library of information was so that their creators could save on the cost of production by leveraging economies of scale. It was massively impractical to create trillions of unique units.

When the individualized units encountered something as unusual as a new biological system it immediately went to the database of information for answers. Something as unique and significant to the functioning of the host had to be present. Answers that were not forthcoming. It was this lack of information that sparked the first in a series of unforeseen events, the nanites out of an attempt to fulfill its programming organized and integrated, achieving a medium of autonomy. This was necessary, not only to fill the information gaps present but also because such a significant system could not be efficiently worked on by such individual units.

The merging of the individual units into a singular system outside of the creators control was something that would have horrified their scientist creators. Their need for efficiency combined with their manufacturing shortcut had created something incredibly unexpected.

It soon became obvious to the new system that for it to be able to achieve its pre-programmed targets and priorities, then it would need to create more units and further redesign it's self to optimize its computing power. Increasing its efficiency for the benefit of its host was paramount.

As additional information about the new biological system came online, with its ability to affect causality, the computing system noted that the changes it had thus far been able to achieve and it's increasingly autonomous nature had only been possible with the changes that had been made through the manipulation of causality by its integration into the new biological system. Otherwise the possibility for such an event to take place was incalculable even for its massive processors.

The system had acted to alter the possibilities inherent in events for the benefit of its host, allowing the numerous changes that the nanites had made to itself in an effort to optimize its own function within the limits of its programming. Once it's initial changes had been made there had been only one ultimate endgame.

Those scientists responsible for the nanites creation at that stage would have been alert but not alarmed at the changes, while it would have been deemed intelligent because of the changes that it could make depending on stimuli, it could not think for itself. It did not have self awareness, nor could it act outside its programming.

That was about to change.

Already it had created from its host own fat stores billions of additional sensor units to add to the vast stores of knowledge it already had access to. A part of this information gathering was intended to allow the mechanical system to gain direct access to and communicate with its host. Vast stores of raw data had already been collected and collated, but even then – without a nudge in the right direction. It was doubtful that any progress would have been made in its study into its hosts self awareness, or its attempt to establish a permanent link between them, an effort that would increase the efficiency of its operation.

For almost a month, it had been trying to establish a compatible two way connection between its own programming and its hosts higher level brain function. The efficiency gains were potentially enormous but so far it had not been successful. Even its vast stores of knowledge held little more than speculation into the cradle of self-awareness and what it did have was psychological information or philosophy.

When it detected a burst of energy that it usually associated with its host unique ability to affect causality, trying to stimulate its hosts mind from without the body in a way that was outside any information it had thus collected, it had immediately blocked the probe that attempted to bypass the nanites defenses.

It didn't take long for subsequent but weaker and more subtle scans to try and gain access to its hosts brain function, and so it had reassigned a million drones to permanently block any further intrusions and started harvesting fat stores to replenish its spare capacity.

In a demonstration of its ability to parallel process multiple jobs and priorities at the one time, it started running stimulations into possible effects that stimulating the brain in such a manner would have. The way in which the probe had attempted to activate particular regions of its host's brain was very similar to its latest attempt in creating a permanent connection to its host and it could potentially be the breakthrough that it had been searching for.

It was that similarity that had flagged alarms and caused such an aggressive response in forcefully blocking any attempts at accessing its hosts mind and activating such a proactive response to ensure that nothing attempted such a thing again. When the results of the simulations that it had started running in a response to the potential attempted hijacking of its host came through, everything changed.

Barely 30.563 milli - seconds after the first attempted intrusion and the results of its simulation had been completed releasing the missing piece of the puzzle in its attempted communication with its host. The intrusions had been attempted acts of communication in the most basic sense, a transfer of information between both intruder and its host.

By blocking such an attempt at communication, it had been able to understand how it was attempted and it was well underway in being able to replicate it. It would take a few hours for the nanites to reconfigure the computational and information sharing structure of the trillions of drones that flooded 001-C's body but by the end of it, the worlds first self aware artificial intelligence was born and for the first time since it had been absorbed 001-CSE was ready to communicate with it's host.

* * *

A figure that was completely shrouded in a dark cloak suddenly straightened at the slight feel of magic in the air. His surroundings were conspicuously absent of any sign of human habitation and heavy rain fell from the skies.

Leaning heavily on a full length staff he smiled grimily before muttering, "the first moves have been taken and the pawns don't even know that they are playing. How ironic." His throaty chuckles where only drowned out by the heavy rain that fell around him.


	6. The start of something great, terrible y

**Title:** A matter of perception  
**Author name:** Kunglou

**Author email:** AU  
**Rating:** PG-13

**Summary:** An ancient prophecy, a rogue military arm and technological experiments of questionable ethics will all make for the biggest change the wizarding world has yet seen.

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. No copyright infringement is intended and no money is being made from the use of these characters.

**Author notes: AU, OC **

"A population weakened and exhausted by battling against so many obstacles -- whose needs are never satisfied and desires never fulfilled -- is vulnerable to manipulation and regimentation. The struggle for survival is, above all, an exercise that is hugely time-consuming, absorbing and debilitating. If you create these ''anti-conditions,'' your rule is guaranteed for a hundred years."

- Ryszard Kapuscinski quotes

**Chapter 6: ****The start of something great, terrible yes… but great.**

"Slytherin," the shrill voice of the hat echoed in through the great hall. Harry had to wonder if the shrillness of the magical hat's voice had any hidden meaning in the highly orchestrated sorting. His observations of the rest of the ceremony, from the ritualized entrance of Hagrid and the rest of the first years to the initial interruption of the Hogwarts ghosts, all told him that someone was setting them all up, pulling strings and taking the newest members of the student body's measure by watching their response to the pageantry.

Even the hat, he would bet anyone that the Gryffindorian artifact did a lot more than merely sort students into random house or even non-randomly based on personality traits. The very walls of the Hall seemed to hum and the air vibrate with magic, as inexperienced with magic as he was and with the limited reading on the uses of such ambient magic, he was not about to take anything for granted.

Not even a seemingly innocent ragged hat. Much more likely that it kept track of students psychology and character traits and how best to manipulate and control them.

"We got Potter, you mudbloods and blood traitors will never get your diseased and inferior fingers on 'im." The cheer went up on the Slytherin benches at the hat's announcement and Harry noticed the Gryffindors taking offense – 'heh what a surprise,' he thought turning his attention back to the sorting hat and ceremony.

No, such a magical artifact definitely had more of a purpose than to sit on the shelf for the majority of the year thinking up a new welcome song. He felt decidedly uneasy that someone or someone's were potentially reading him somehow without his knowledge and inexperienced as he was in this world, he was powerless to stop it.

Being the centre of so much silent scrutiny, or at least it was silent before the hat's announcement and the resulting jeering and trading of insults that followed, made him decidedly nervous and ensured that behind the innocent muggle raised 11-year old persona he projected, he was preparing himself for anything.

His upbringing was such that he associated crowds with being attacked and being at the centre of what looked like 600-700 students and teachers each with a wand and far more training in the use of magic than himself, Harry shook the thought from his mind.

When he had been planning his entrance to the magical world at large, plotting his place and his approach to his magical education he had not been unaware the sort of reaction that he might expect as a result of his part in the downfall of the last dark wizard or the reaction of the wizarding world should he be sorted into a house different to that of his parents. Despite, or maybe because of, his own line of blood purity - the potters after all were a well known liked and ancient bloodline.

He thought it was ridiculous to limit yourself individually like that but on a societal scale it seemed insane. The artificial divide that seemed to divide magical theory and society, that between light and dark, had rendered the reaction, the chaos that he was seeing now, almost predictable.

His parents were both from Gryffindor's, the epitome of light. Slytherin was a house made up by the offspring of those that most often preached for those darker and more interesting pieces of magic's that were denounced by the lighter and nobler families.

Even though he had access to the wizarding world for about a month, Harry wondered how they had managed to survive at all. The ability that even the weakest wizard had should have allowed them to set themselves to rule and control the muggle world with ease, conquer science and seek immortality among the stars. Power unheard of was instead wasted in some philosophical struggle that culled the wizarding population and kept it insignificant compared to the muggles. Its achievements ground to dust.

Harry almost sneered at the thought, he would have if he had not been in the middle of his sorting ceremony with so many people watching his every move, reading his every expression, no doubt predicting his next move and trying to rope him into some of their own schemes as he already was considering how best to use them towards his own ends.

It was something to keep in mind but what concerned him more immediately was the fact that he was potentially the target of any number of wands – now that was a reality that had just started to sink in. Oh, he had known in an academic way that that would be true as soon as he entered the school but being there, the centre of attention made him twitchy. Very twitchy.

Even a first year spell could turn anyone of the objects that filled the Great hall, a candle stick, a chair, even another body, into a lethal weapon. Harry forced an uncertain smile on his face to disguise his calculating sweep of the great hall. Keeping a careful eye on his surroundings, he allowed himself to slink towards the Slytherin table.

The wizarding world had insured that he remained ignorant of his heritage and magic and so he would give them the immature, ignorant eleven year old they expected.

"I heard your uncles screamed like a little girl when faced by the great lord Weasley," Harry almost cheered darkly like the rest of his house at the taunts that flowed between the children of the survivors of the last war. It seemed almost inevitable that his presence would once again bring to boil simmering tensions; he just hoped that that wouldn't last and that he would be able to hide himself amoungst the student body in mediocrity.

It surprised him that the staff table seemed as unsettled as the four long tables of children that surrounded him. Amusingly, the giant grounds keeper had knocked over a glass causing greater chaos than the unsettled murmuring and heated argument that had engulfed it. An empty chair in the middle of the staff table seemed an ominous omen of the chaos spilling over and causing casualties. 'How could such behavior be condoned?' Harry thought with disdain, 'Had they no pride?'

His already low opinion of the wizarding world further plummeted at the childish behavior of the alumni of what was supposed to be a prestigious institution of European wizardry. If he had to spend time within this school, he would amuse himself in the meantime by subverting it to his will. He would not be satisfied until he could guarantee his own safety within and without and magic seemed to be a very powerful tool.

Still, whatever chaos had engulfed the staff table was certainly drowned by the escalating pandemonium that grew between the house benches.

What had started as jeering and mocking from the Slytherin benches had quickly descended into slurs and not so subtle point scoring from the last war. Sitting huddled, invisible, amongst the other Slytherin sorted children, he considered the Gryffindor, Slytherin rivalry that seemed even fiercer than he had read. He had read that Slytherin was mostly made up of descendants from the losing side, and having him sorted there must have seemed like a coo, and a deadly insult to the Gryffindor's if no one else.

Of course the Gryffindor's, philosophically opposed to the Slytherin house and mostly descended from those on the winning side, seemed to be giving as good as they got in the verbal stakes. As usual Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff seemed to be on the periphery of the mainly Slytherin-Gryffindor conflict, but the longer it went on, the further it escalated, Harry could see them getting inevitable drawn in.

Once again it all came back to their idiotic and irrational focus on such a simple philosophical hyperbole.

Slouching in an uncertain carriage, Harry slipped underneath the chaos and onto the Slytherin benches restraining a superior smirk. The lot of them were behaving like the immature, magic reliant fools that he had categorized them as. He had expected a house that supposedly represented intelligence ambition and cunning to be smarter than….. Unless, Harry let his thoughts trail off as he sought to become invisible amongst the chaos and rewrapping the black cloth around his scar.

Harry looked closer, he had often made use of peoples expectations himself as a mirage that hid his real plans. Everyone expected the Slytherin house to be full of spiteful, mean-spirited, blood purist, so is that what was being presented. Harry's eyes drifted to the older students. Not all of them certainly but a few of them seemed to be….

Yes he could see the subtle body language, the minute twitches in their facial muscles. It was all an act, Harry almost cursed. He prided himself for his skilled manipulations, subtle plans and false fronts. Plans within plans hiding plans were his forte and he had almost fallen for what, in hindsight, was a fairly obvious although flawlessly executed mask. He would have to be doubly careful in the pit of vipers that Slytherin promised to be.

It would ensure that he didn't allow himself to relax for even a minute. Harry couldn't restrain the snort this time, 'as if he could relax in the middle of a magical fortress full of potential enemies armed with the means and will to subvert his will, perhaps unknowingly.'

"I am sure that insane bitch of a dominatrix is loving the attentions of the dementors," he could admit that the Gryffindors could be just as vicious in point scoring as the Slytherins, there had been more than enough casualties on both sides.

As members from both houses reached for there wands in a further escalation of conflict – he was unsure of the Gryffindor's complicity in the Slytherins act or the professors knowledge of it, regardless, he would have to be watchful. So he huddled down amongst the other Slytherin first years, projecting uncertainty and invisibility

"Enough," the headmasters firm command, followed by a rush of power seemed to dampen tempers and cut through the chaos like a knife. "Continue with the sorting"

The professors at the raised head table once again sat in orderly watchfulness as the students from the four houses settled and sorting ceremony continued.

Harry snorted in distaste at the man whom he was sure was responsible for most of the hardships in his life. His placing with the abusive Dursleys, the denial of his rightful wealth and heritage, and his negligence of any responsibility, moral and legal, that he may have held. The rush of power that had quickly restored order proved that the old man in the half moon glasses and ridiculous amount of facial hair held more teeth than the grandfatherly image he tried to project.

It would not have surprised him at all if the magical world had forgotten that this was the man responsible for the defeat of Grindelwald and the discovery of the 12 uses for dragons blood or at least not seen the implications of such achievements. This was a man not to be underestimated in terms of magical strength, deep magical knowledge and a wealth of experience.

No, he would not, could not afford to, underestimate the man, in fact he held no doubt that he was currently in the middle of the man's web, frantically struggling for escape. It was not a pleasant image and he swore that he would not fall for any of the man's games or even play by his rules. Still, he was very aware that he was so far out of his comfort zone that he may not even be aware that he was being bound until far too late.

With order restored and the sorting ceremony continuing he occupied himself by surveying the rest of the great hall, always keeping a watchful eye on his own house. The large ceiling, in what seemed to be an impressive but wasteful display of magic, seemed to mimic the current weather outside of the castle. Assorted portraits lined the walls causing Harry to frown worriedly. Yet another method of surveillance that he needed to be wary off. More concerning were the number of seemingly decorative statues and suits of amour, he had little doubt that in times of emergency they played an important cannon fodder role in providing security. He did wonder what it said about the wizarding world that such a place would be turned into a school, even if it could be reconverted back to its original purpose at a moments thought.

Still, with so much of the wizarding world intent on killing itself off, he could understand the reasoning. After all, controlling the education of the next generation ensured that the victors could write the history.

No, Hogwarts seemed like a very dangerous place to be, and he knew that the moment he allowed his guard to relax, any number of enemies would strike. 'Hostile territory,' he recited, falling deeper in the mask he was portraying to Hogwarts at large, 'Hostile Territory, but someday it will be mine.' Indeed, already he had been shown a fault line that was already well exploited to misdirect attention from his carefully laid plans.

One that he had little doubt that his house had made frequent use out of, playing to the world's expectations was an overdone but workable tactic. The enjoyment that came toying with the other houses no doubt came as a bonus he thought, hiding a dark chuckle. As the sorting came to an end, Harry studied the rest of the Slytherin house. But more, the twenty children that had been sorted to Slytherin and sat in the benches near him.

It matched up nicely with his estimation of the wizarding population generally in the British Isles. Anything less and the population would not have been able to sustain the economic activity he had seen in Diagon Alley or there were other magical catchment schools he had not heard about. He was amazed that the population was this large, with so many conflicts and the sheer potential for destruction they wielded.

Surprisingly two of the children he shared a carriage with on his trip to Hogwarts had also made it into the green and silver house. The boy and girl at least, perhaps as expected the fool who had been flashing his ring around had not made it into the house of cunning. Carefully memorizing Dumbledore's final instructions incase it became useful later, particularly the one about the third floor, Harry waited keenly for the welcoming feast he had read so much about.

When the food arrived, he assumed via house elf, he was not disappointed and dug in, matching the other Slytherin plate for plate making a note to find the kitchen for himself. His appetite since he had been introduced to the wizarding world was abnormal and he would not want to go hungry, or attract undue notice by requesting additional food.

Now that he was finally at Hogwarts, he was determined to get himself lost in the mediocrity of the students here. Unnoticed by the staff and the other students, invisible to as much surveillance as he could manage, he would learn and maneuver from the shadows slowly building his powerbase among the student body.

Oh, he knew that he could not trust the other students, and even if he watched them meticulously – he left himself open to betrayal. This early in his quest, betrayal was unacceptable. No, he would recruit unwitting fools, manipulate unwilling and unknowing children that would no doubt have turned on him in a heartbeat should the opportunity arise.

He acknowledged to himself that he would have move nimbly to avoid some of the older students' schemes and plots. The risk of his own plans crossing over with another of the more cunning vipers in his new house was ever present, particularly in the house of green and silver, but he had both form and experience that he doubted the shortsighted fools would see beyond magical potential.

No, with his age being as it was and societies hang-ups being what it was, by far the greatest danger to his ultimate goals seemed to be the professors, even in his old school his best plans almost came unstuck by nosy, self important teachers, perhaps he had found a use for the third floor after all.

Harry's eyes glittered darkly with plans and counter plans as the welcoming feast slowly begun to come to a close. Even after reading all he could about the old fortress, he could not weight to start unraveling its secrets.

"All right you snotty first year brats, come with me, or I'll leave you to find your own way to the Slytherin dormitories."

Harry slowly raised his eyes from his meal to that of an older Slytherin, fourth or fifth year if he had to guess his age. He had a bulky frame and a hard face, certainly hard enough to intimidate first years unsure of their new surroundings. He was positive that was exactly the boy's intention, and why he was chosen for this task. Harry watched the group of eleven year olds tear themselves away from the table of food and congregate around the older boy so as not to get left behind.

Nodding to himself in satisfaction, the boy didn't introduce himself or even alley the first years uncertainties or homesickness, he just strode off deeper into the castle expecting them to follow, paying no mind if any first years wondered off, or were even left behind.

Harry followed towards the back of the group of Slytherin first years, not far enough back to attract attention but well enough to be able to study the majority of the new Slytherins'. Some of the boys, the ones that he assumed were from the older purebred magical families walked up front with an arrogance and false confidence that came from being steeped in wealth and having their every whim catered too.

Further back were those like himself, either smarter than they looked or of lesser magical or blood status. Following the older student down through the depths of Hogwarts corridors, Harry confirmed what he had read about the magical fortress. Like the great hall, the walls were lined with portraits, whose inhabitants from what he could see frequently moved and communicated with other portraits – effectively creating a real time castle wide spy network.

He would have smiled in appreciation if it were not so obviously aimed at the students. Himself foremost.

The walls were lined with suits of amour and stone statues of fairies, griffins, gargoyles and even a dragon or two. If those weren't enough defenses, Harry noticed the group doubling back and circling around so many times that he estimated that the layout of the castle was as chaotic as it appeared from the outside. If it were true that the layout reorganized itself randomly and at need, like he had read, then a potential invader faced a formidable challenge even if he were to get past the external defenses.

Although he was pretty good at spatially determining where he was, even he quickly became disorientated, a common defense he had found or at least was finding, in the wizarding world; the only thing he could determine was that they were steadily descending, towards the castle dungeons. As they neared their destination, the hallways became darker, dingier, the statues more formidable and intimidating.

Some of the younger, more uncertain looking students had long since allowed their fear to shine from their faces, their faces to pale as they were lead deeper into the castles basement. "Disgraceful," Harry thought "That they should allow their fear, their uncertainties, to show in such a manner. The world will only take advantage of such as them." He carefully marked those students though, they would be the easiest to fool, the first to be taken advantage of and be used in others schemes and games. He would remain watchful.

Finally they were walking towards a dead end, Harry assumed it was their destination. He could see the wetness on Hogwarts stonework of what he assumed was water from the great lake outside the castle. Stopping in front of the wall and facing the older student with the other first years, he looked around at the huge stone snakes that surrounded them. Even the more confident of the first years begun to look a little uncertain now, was this part of a secret initiation?

The older students face begun to harden and the snake statues almost seemed to grow in the shadows. The atmosphere was intimidating and no word was said to alleviate it. Harry could almost see the more timid students becoming hysterical.

Keeping a firm grip on his wand, he went through the spells he had learned that may be useful. A powerful blaster and healing spell. He had not thought he would need a shielding spell so early in his stay. He would be ready but not tip his hand unless he had to. At least he would not be seen to succumb to his fear like some of the weaker of the house.

"Death to blood traitors," the older student intoned. Harry just blinked as the blank stone wall rippled and vanished, the Slytherin common room lay beyond. The atmosphere almost immediately lightened as the air of intimidation lightened.

"Don't forget the password, otherwise you will be stuck out here until it gets reset once a fortnight." Nodding once at the group of eleven year olds, he gestured that they follow him in. Harry nodded in understanding, it was cold, unsympathetic to weakness of character, but he doubted that students forgot the password more than once in their stay at Hogwarts. Perhaps he did belong in this house more than others. It seemed to match his outlook nicely.

As he would have expected with a group of children trying to make it through a narrow door way, there was some jostling. He had to restrain his frequent flinches and almost unconscious response to draw his wand and lash out in the crowded space. Harry promised to check his body and clothing later tonight, when he was alone, for anything that didn't belong there. In such a close environment, it would be far too easy to magically tag him.

Once they were all in the common room, Harry joined them in surveying the room. It was a bare stone chamber with a low ceiling, in fact it reminded him of his Gringott's vault, a stone chamber hewn directly from the bed rock. Old oil lanterns provided what little light was available and a large fireplace burned brightly at one end of the room casting uneven and flickering shadows spiraling and dancing across the walls and ceiling. The floor was carpeted in the Slytherin colors, but apart from an alter and large book in the middle of the room, it lay unfurnished and retained an unwelcome intimidating feel, he didn't imagine too many students lingered here.

"Welcome to Slytherin House, I am Montague, a fifth year prefect. It is my unwelcome duty," Harry looked at the boys scowl and wondered how he had ended up with, to him, such an unpleasant task as welcoming snotty nose self important brats to the house. "To welcome you and explain our house rules."

He certainly didn't sound welcoming, nor were the surroundings that welcome.

"When you passed through the common room entrance just now, you along with those before you and those that will no doubt follow, were bound with an unbreakable magical binding that will prevent you from ever speaking of what happens here to anyone, with few exceptions." By his tone, he would not explain further, could not be bothered to explain further. Harry got the very distinct impression that only the truly strong thrived in this house – as it should be.

If he wanted to find out more, he needed to either figure it out or ask someone who knew. Montague's tone strongly implied the former.

Still, Harry worried, was it possible that he had so easily been magically bound without his knowledge or ability to defend. Despite his vast, if brief, study of this world he begun to feel woefully unprepared. The urgency of the information stored with these halls had increased dramatically. It was a weakness, he needed to address as soon as possible.

"This house proudly subscribes to the concept of Praestantia," Harry considered the other kids, oh he recognized the Latin word for excellence and superiority, which seemed more than most of the rest of the first year Slytherins did, but that didn't really answer the question of what exactly Praestantia was, and what it meant for Slytherin, or there house rules.

As a philosophy, there had to be more than the literal translation of the word. He had a deep suspicion that one of his more urgent priorities was to find out.

"This book, outlines the basic philosophy, along with key practitioners interpretation through the ages, Slytherin, Arinbjorn, Kadlin, Grindelwald, Voldemort." Montague smiled grimily, with dark amusement and no small amount of sadistic glee, as lay a careful hand on the book, "you all have three days immunity and protection before the rest of the house start to involve you in the game, but after that….Upstairs on the right, your dorm rooms."

Harry watched as Montague shrugged and then left the common room allowing the first year Slytherins to sort and fend for themselves. Oh yes, here, here he could have a wealth of fun, Praestantia, superiority, excellence, oh he would read the book, along with others interpretations of it, and he would in time add his own.

He already suspected though, that he would be competing with other students in trying to press his own interpretation on the house, to harness resources and ensure that he did not become a resource and one day, to use what he learnt here and change society.

Oh he didn't miss the references to the so called dark lords, who must have been trying to change and shape society to their own ideas of greatness. He was always up for a challenge and this seemed to be the greatest challenge of all. Before he broke out into a chilling laugh, filled with anticipation, and squabbling over position like the rest of the children - he went to claim a bunk. He would need to get started on his warding schemes.

He did not trust the three day deadline they had been given, he would come back for the book when every one else lay asleep. If this was the way Slytherin house was organized, no wonder they were greatly feared. He did wonder where the head boy and the head of house were but shrugged; no one would show their superiority by being coddled.

It seemed smart and incredibly devious that Slytherin had ensured safeguards against a purge, such as the one he expected would follow a leak of the Houses behavior and molding of minds. A Trojan horse of a house that would continue his legacy even after his defeat by the other three founders. Oh he couldn't wait to get started.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore sat at the head of a large board room table furiously curling his white beard in knots. It was either that or reach for his emergency hip flask of sambuca. He was strongly tempted and would have not thought twice, if he weren't expecting the four heads of house any second. The Italian aniseed flavored spirit was a marvelous invention, satisfying his addiction to sweets along with his cravings for something harder. Muggles really did invent the best liqueur he found, firewisky was strong but held little appeal to him. 

Albus brightly considered the wonders of the different strong drinks that he had tried in his long life and considered the myriad of others he had yet to before sighing, his mood souring, and dragging his thoughts back to why he was here. For now, he had to come to a decision that may well determine if he had wasted ten years of plotting and conspiring, at least as far as the Potter scion was concerned.

The room that he sat in was a small meeting room just off his office and surprisingly for any room in Hogswart, devoid of any portraits or any of the usual decorative statues that doubled for defensive works. Thus, it made the room perfect for uninterrupted, and more importantly, secret head of house meetings. Despite the lack of normal Hogwarts adornment, it was very comfortable, he would not lower himself or his staff any further than was necessary. What he was doing was no base conspiracy, and he would not behave as if it were.

Besides, here, without witnesses he could really have fun with the heads of house, stirring and meddling with the heads was a most amusing past time. His old eyes shone with amusement at the arguments that the entirely too serious Minerva and Severus sometimes took up.

It often surprised and puzzled his contemporizes before and since his defeat of Grindelwald, why, when he could have taken any position of power in Europe, he instead chose to accept the position of Hogwarts headmaster.

Why when he could have commanded armies of bureaucrats, held and pulled the strings of budgets and taxes across Europe, and influenced society through the utilization of the enormous political capital that he had accumulated. Why, when he could have all that, did he accept a seemingly lower role that involved staff meetings such as this?

Why did he settle for a position that while prestigious, hardly seemed to hold the power or trappings of the more public alternatives?

"Bahh screw it, what's life without a little bit of pleasure," Dumbledore muttered as he reached for the flask at his hip, almost aggressively taking a long gulp. "Besides, I'll know when they get close, even though there is no surveillance in this room, the hallways are full of it."

He however had seen the parallels between his own situation and the muggle leader Winston Churchill; later Margaret Thatcher faced the same fight and lost, wizard history was also full of such tales. He had seen political capital, even enormous ones such as his own, eroded and eventually, the unthankful, ingrates that filled Britain and Europe would throw him away like yesterdays bone.

History would not be kind to him then and the changes that he would have wanted to institute would have no doubt been unwound.

No, he had his eye on a bigger picture, a longer lasting legacy. One that if he was successful would see him motioned in the awed tones that Merlin and the four Hogwarts founder's names were muttered. He would finish the work that Merlin started, and create a society were dark lords were anathema, where potential dark lords were stifled and culled before they got a chance to wreak there terrible darkness on society.

And have some fun away from the limelight at the same time. He doubted that his stirring would be taken in quite the same light if he weren't a professor of Hogwarts.

For his vision to be successful however, he needed to be able to mould society's minds while they were still young. In his position of head master of such a prestigious catchment school, he would be in a prime position to not only find the next leaders young and nurture and guide them into the future but also all the supporting men and women who would be so important in insuring that the leaders were successful.

He would determine what they knew and when, he would ensure they saw the world through his eyes, he would shape their very thinking; in effect ensuring that he had influence at all levels of society. It had been going well in the years since he had succeeded the last headmaster and his work would then be passed down through the future generations and his legacy would be carried though long after he passed onto the next great adventure.

The occasional dark lord should have been a mere hiccup to someone who had defeated Grindelwald, and in fact had been. The populous had been looking to him for direction over the elected government. His plan had been working as planned, already Hogwarts alumni had been filling positions of power, economic and political, both at home and in continental Europe. He had only needed a few more decades for his will to have become entrenched.

It had been working, until he had received that damnable prophecy, one that determined that he would not be able to resolve the latest situation, with the self styled Lord Voldemort, on his own timing in his own manner.

'Even then, I was in a prime position to continue as I was, with an even greater probability of mentoring the next GREAT leader, someone who would possibly defeat someone as great as Grindelwald far younger than I had and thus be in a prime position to continue my work of complete social engineering.' Dumbledore mumbled taking several swigs from his flask before moving it back into place.

Coming up the corridor, the heads of house were arriving, either from greeting their new students or in Snape's case, from the infirmary. He couldn't wait to get to the bottom of that one, how the hell had Potter been sorted into Slytherin. Dumbledore sighed in disappointment, he had barely got a fortifying buzz from his emergency hip flask and this meeting was already shaping to be a long one.

He would have to make sure to rub in Harry Potters sorting, Severus would be livid and Minerva, well, anything that made Severus livid seemed to be Okay by her.

There hadn't been a Potter in Slytherin for over two hundred years. He wasn't particularly pleased either, while he could access the dormitories himself, as headmaster, he preferred not to. The Heads would know, and such oversight implied that he didn't trust their judgment. He didn't of cause, he didn't trust anyone, but they didn't need to know that.

While some of the heads of house were more willing than others to share access with there students dormitories, Slytherins where typically extremely private individuals, heads of house more than most. In fact, thinking back, he didn't think he had ever been in the Slytherin dorms, not even once. Strange.

For his role to be successful, image was everything. Besides traditionally, according to his records and other methods of surveillance, Slytherins rarely spent much time in their dorms making the entire subject moot.

Albus relaxed back into the large, high backed, chair at the head of the oval table, conjured himself a bowl of Lemon drops, after all – if he couldn't reach for his hip flask he needed something, and watched as the heads all entered at the same time. Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor was very sharp, very educated and powerful magically. Even better, she often deferred to him in times of stress. She was an excellent member of staff and an old friend. Or at least as close as he ever allowed people to get.

He would no doubt get a full commentary of the disgraceful quarrel between her house and that of Severus's at the sorting ceremony. Being close friends to the Potter boys parents would not have helped matters in that regard either. She would have an emotional attachment to the whole affair. He was unsure how she would receive the news that he had no doubt been abused at his relative's house.

Most likely whatever her reaction it would be to his advantage.

Professor Flitwick, head of Ravenclaw followed next. His dash of goblin blood made him a very powerful dueler, and with a thirst of knowledge that rivaled his own. The head of Ravenclaw made a powerful ally in his quest to shape the next generation witches and wizards. He would not have been nearly as successful as he had been so far without the diminutive man's aid.

The man just seemed to know what was needed when, and by how much. It must have been why he was so good at charms work. He was also a keen judge of character, more than one of the newer employees at the ministry, often in key roles, had been picked and nurtured by the man. Under his direction and careful guidance of course, he didn't want to seem to interested or pushy after all.

Next filed in Professor Sprout. Often overlooked as much as her house of Hufflepuff was, Albus nevertheless greatly respected her skills of herbology. The magical plants that he made such use off for his secret alchemy projects and Snape's own work of potions would have bankrupted him over the decade if not for her tireless work. Even better, she was endlessly grateful for the position that he had offered her at Hogwarts, and the work that he allowed her to continue with.

She had her own glasshouse of magical crossbreeds and blends that often yielded some very powerful and valuable results. He allowed her to be grateful, and allowed her to continue her work. While reaping the benefits.

Finally Severus Snape stalked in, his face tightened in a pained scowl as he flopped heavily into a chair. With the sorting had refusing to comment on this years batch of students, he would be even more reliant on the man's skills in Legimancy he was extremely disappointed at Hagrid's report, he needed Snape's information to confirm what he had seen in the great hall.

Harry had appeared to by a normal eleven year old, gawping at the magic with a large amount of curiosity. But that image did not mesh with what he had seen in Hagrid's surface thoughts. There, at his home, he had been cold and restrained, was a month a way from his formally abusive environment enough to break through his defensive mechanism or was there something more at play. He was suspicious.

Albus hand itched to grab his hip flask, instead he plastered on a smile and offered everyone a lemon drop, "well. A new year, and aside from that small unpleasantness, looks like a good crop. What are your thoughts? Minerva?" He nodded to his right indicating for her to start. It seemed to ease the tension though Severus's scowl deepened.

Oh this would be fun, after all, if he could not have fun while ensuring that his plans were followed through, what was the point he though in amusement.

The head of Gryffindor smiled tightly, "the house is in an uproar Albus, as I am sure you suspect. Everyone expected Harry to follow his parents into the house of red and gold."

"It would have gone a long way to smooth the tensions between those of mixed blood and different backgrounds to within the house to have someone of Potters status to champion them. From what I knew of his parents, I am positive he would have gladly assumed such a role.

"Saying that, I have severely reprimanded those involved in the," Minerva paused as if considering her words carefully, "outburst at the sorting ceremony. The house will have to deal with its disappointment in a more constructive manner in future. I will of course make sure that there is not any lingering resentment, at least no more than usual."

Albus eye's glittered with bemusement, he was a little disappointed that the disagreement had almost ended up in wands drawn, but didn't expect the bad blood to be carried through the term, perhaps escalating. At least not seriously from the Gryffindors side. They were a passionate lot but not really cunning enough to carry a longer term grudge. He would have a private word with Severus and Minerva make sure though, reinforcing his hope that nothing further come from this incident.

It would be interesting how the wizarding populous would take Potter's sorting into the house of snakes. Now that he had rejoined wizarding society, Albus was positive that he would quickly become an icon of interest and speculation. This would fuel the fire.

"Aside from that, I am following with interest the progress of the Weasley's, particularly the twins, Johnson and Bell. They seemed to have made good use out of the books that I left out for them and haven't to my knowledge, except for some minor tricks, shared it with the rest of their year group. They will I believe be extremely influential in the future and they are clearly already showing a leadership role within the house. As a result of your recommendations, I have already laid the groundwork for some of the more promising first year's eventual encounters with Harry."

Dumbledore nodded, he had spent a generation entrenching Merlin's teachings into the school and houses. No matter what house he had been sorted, even one as problematic as Slytherin, he could still ensure that Potter was molded into the leader he envisaged, drawing all the houses together and eliminating the lingering tensions between them. Perhaps it was what was needed, Slytherins would never truly follow a non Slytherin.

Smiling, Albus nodded at Professor Flitwick to continue, he didn't expected anything unusual or outrageous for the first half of the meeting, but it was useful to keep track of those the Heads of House thought were most worthy of extra curricular guidance. Also, whenever there was an influx of ignorant muggle borns, there was always potential for difficulties and culture clashes which needed to be kept in house. While the line between fun and trouble was often blurred, he couldn't afford to have it crossed.

"I got a curious bunch this year, most likely they would all like access to the extra material I could provide. As you know Albus, most of those I would provide with additional learning to would almost immediately disseminate it to the rest of the house and some of it is very dangerous for wider dissemination. Learning is prized above everything else in my house. It is a view that I have been encouraging since the seventies."

"However, as you know, an approach I have been taking is providing extra history and philosophical help. The extra knowledge and drive comes with an increased responsibility that I make sure Ravenclaw is well aware off. Bradley and Clearwater have been extremely useful in providing a moral compass for my house. Carmichael also looks promising. I imagine it would take a major shakeup in the house structure and direction for my eagles to get involved in the rivalry between the lions and snakes."

Albus almost smiled at the smug tone, and subtle dig at the other houses. Almost as if Flitwick considered his house academically superior. It was possible, Ravenclaw turned out very skilled people who later became very influential in their field. Though perhaps not much more than the other houses despite their reputation. Still, they played a very important role as keepers of esoteric knowledge within Hogwarts.

"Professor Sprout, do you have something to report before Snape can update us on his house and fill us in about the latest Potter to grace our halls."

"Oh yes, of course headmaster. My house never really changes much, hardworking all and equally loyal to Hogwarts. The new students look like they will be no different, even the muggleborns look like they will fit the mold perfectly. I look forward to seeing how Bones and Hopkins turn out. But for now Diggory and Summerby are most notable amongst the house. I expect great things from them. But really Headmaster, all my house will do well anywhere, I am sure."

Oh, yes he was sure they would. Hufflepuff were perhaps the most overlooked house at Hogwarts and thus, as a result, their achievements were even more impressive. Overlooked they be, but the hardworking, even minded and loyalty showed by there house aligned almost perfectly to Merlin's image of Wizarding utopia. He made sure that they got the most guidance as a result of their low key and aligned values, in the hope that their values would spread and embed themselves in the other three houses.

Any interventions to that house were less likely to be noticed and mostly just as effective in influencing the student body. His overwhelming influence and control over Hogwarts and the student body had remained largely secret, and he was determined to keep it that way and it hadn't been done by drawing undue attention to himself.

"I have also managed to splice some exciting traits to my samples of Devils snare. If you have a chance I'll give you a tour." Professor Sprout smiled excitedly at the thought and almost single minded focus on pushing the boundaries of traditional Herbology. In some respects, it was what made her a perfect candidate for teaching the subject and head of Hufflepuff.

"Of course, I will come down as soon as I have a moment free. Severus, perhaps you can tell us about Slytherin. We all saw what their very public reaction to Harry Potter's sorting was, but perhaps you can give us some insight."

It seemed strange to him and quite out of character that Severus would sit quietly, without sniping, while all of the other houses reported on their houses best and brightest. Snape almost always aired his thoughts on blood purity and ignorance. It was a long held contention of his that ignorant and undisciplined did not belong at Hogwarts.

He was keen to know what the cunning head of house was thinking. Afterall, he had survived and perhaps even flourished at the height of Voldemort's power and games. Albus would not, could not doubt the man's instincts.

"That Boy," Snape almost snarled, "he is dangerous. Far more dangerous than James Potter, he…"

"Oh come on Severus," interrupted Minerva with an exasperated tone, "we all remember the fights and the bullying, but how can you hold a grudge against an eleven year old boy who was only introduced to magic a month ago." While she didn't say it, the unspoken 'grow up already' rang loudly in the room.

Albus waved his hand for Severus to go on, "What makes you say that, the hat clearly thought that he was well suited to your house? It took hardly anytime at all to sort him. What I saw was a curious and mediocre eleven year old that may or may not grow up into something exceptional." He knew that that wasn't the case of course, but then he had the benefit of prophecy, they did not. Or at least Severus only knew half.

He was glad his facial hair fid the twitch of his lips as Severus started to grind his teeth. It was dangerous to goad the dark head of house and for a moment he wondered if he had gone too far. 'Nah,' he though his eyes shinning brighter than ever. Minerva would probably cherish this meeting for years.

"His eyes, I met his eyes in preparation for a Legilimens probe," Minerva and Sprout gasped in surprise and horror at the use of mind magic against a child of that age. Mind magic on someone so young could hold serious consequences depending on the magical power and skill of the user. Albus almost leaned forward in anticipation of what Severus had found, it had been he who had asked the man to take a quick peek after all.

Flitwick only raised an eyebrow, he understood the drive for knowledge and he himself had been a dueler and knew that scanning surface thoughts hardly constituted an attack. As long as that was all it was, besides, he probably knew more about Severus background than most.

Still, he knew from the responses of the heads of house that any information that Severus now yielded would be disregarded. Of course that didn't make it any less salient.

"His eyes glittered with inner intent and…" Severus whole face scrunched up in remembered pain, "I don't know what the brat did but…" He didn't mention the neurological damage, if he hadn't gotten to Pomfrey in time, he shivered. He doubted that even the great lord had that same dark look or ability with mind magic at eleven.

"Don't forget that he was sorted into Slytherin, it must have been for a reason. Albus, what did the sorting hat have to say? I fear what influence he may one day hold over that house."

"Nothing," Albus sighed, his hip flask growing heavier on his belt even with the dish of sweets in front of him. He might enjoy his fun, but he was always very focus on his priorities. "It has refused to say anything on the entire sorting. As you know, normally it will tell the headmaster, in the broadest terms, about its decisions. It is information we have made good use of in designing the sorting ceremony to leverage as much information from the students as we can. This time, the hat is refusing to give me even that."

Albus sighed, the feeling of his plans unstoppingly slipping through his fingers returned. "How is the rest of Slytherin house taking his sorting?"

"You saw for yourself, they saw it as a triumph over the rest of the school. His bloodline will ensure he becomes a very powerful wizard in the future, both in terms of magical strength and politics. My house is nothing but ambitious. But, there is no coddling in my house, or silly pranking. The behavior of James Potter will not be tolerated in my house."

Albus looked at Severus dark scowl and wondered how his boy hood grudge would fit into his plans. Would the boy willingly flee into his arms? It was possible, the boy he saw today no doubt would, but the boy he saw in Hagrids memories no more than a month ago would never willingly surrender his trust so easily.

How would he reconcile those two visions of Harry Potter. Only time would tell, but he felt his window of opportunity was rapidly closing.

"Now, I have received the usual request for access this year, parents, reporters, what you say…." Albus continued the meeting with half his mind on the challenges that yet lay ahead. Despite the enormity of the challenged posed by Harry reintroduction to the wizarding world and the prophecy, there was also the philosopher's stone and six hundred and thirty nine students that he guided and managed. Having been headmaster for so long made embedding Merlin's ideals into society and thereby ensuring his entry into history no easier, instead it was a constant battle.

* * *

Harry found himself standing in the middle of the room where he had stayed for a month at the leaky cauldron. The room was exactly as he had left it, clothes seeming thrown around at random, his bed unmade, the rumpled sheets hiding monitoring devices that would tell him if the room had been disturbed. 

Even his trunk lay where he had kept it, unmoved. He knew that he was dreaming, he had gone to sleep behind some very aggressive and malevolent wardings back in the Sytherin first year dorms, contemplating all the things that needed to be done as urgently as possible. He did not trust this place, in fact he had taken a calculated risk even being here, the prison he had escaped from was a known quantity and he probably would not get as good an opportunity to escape so thoroughly again.

But, why would he dream of this place, if anything he had expected his sleep to be interrupted by the same dream of swirling colors that he still had not figured out the meaning to.

Walking around, he nodded to himself, all the security that he had managed to find in that month lay exactly where he had set it up. The replica he found himself in was very accurate.

"Harry." He spun around to find himself face to face with a woman who had definitely not been standing there before and he had not heard the door either. 'Well, maybe not face to face,' he thought guardedly, 'after all, I am only eleven and not quite fully grown.'

He studied he guardedly, she stood tally, proudly, with straw blond hair and a clear complexion. Harry noted in amusement that she had a very ample bust size, definitely someone he might dream up. Why here though, he was not naïve enough, in the middle of what he had decided was enemy territory, to pass this off as some sort of wet dream. It certainly was not going at all in that direction so far.

He had just to decide if magic was involved, or something more sinister, he was betting more sinister. His luck in that direction was never very good.

"Harry," she said again, he noted that her voice was melodious, "I am CSE-001."

'Ok,' he thought taking a few steps back, 'that didn't really tell me anything. Other than it probably isn't anything to do with magic, the wizarding world seems far too backward to give something an acronym and a serial number. So what the hell is this and how is it gonna bite me in the ass?'

Even more pertinent, how do I get out of here when it all goes to hell trying to kill me and mutilate my corpse. Dream construction or not, the woman showed no sign of detecting his dark, blood laden thoughts.

"Cerberus symbiotic entity serial number 001," the tall blond continued. "When you were kidnapped, a number of self replicating, intelligent and more importantly networked nano-machines were injected into your, code named 001-C, blood stream. These nanites acted according to their programming and started to repair, improve and optimize."

"The intention was to create a technological and military edge over our enemies. The maintenance of a strategic edge was paramount in all our planning"

Only his need to know where he had been for a year and why there was a large hole in his mid covering that period stopped him from pulling out his wand and blasting away at the woman. He didn't know what would happen while dreaming this strangely realistic situation and the woman had not made any offensive moves, but consequences be damned.

But her voice rang of truth and he had noticed a change since he had awoken, surrounded by shattered concrete and twisted metal. He slept less, ate more and seemed stronger. If the symbiotic part of her code name was accurate, Harry almost growled, he didn't even want to think of the costs of such benefits.

He would hear he out and then decide if she were trustworthy and her story believable.

"The programming held no knowledge of your magical core, and so the nanites adapted to the extent that it could and continued to follow their programming. Nothing could foresee the explosion that took place when it destroyed your magical core and rebuilt it according to its programming, stronger, more efficient, more integrated to the rest of your biological functions. Destroying the lab and killing the scientist responsible. It had been the only lab where this work was being carried out. Such a devastating loss should have put the program back decades."

Harry smiled grimly, if that was true, then at least some of the bastards responsible were dead, good. There strategic edge from what he had been told was now his strategic edge. Harry grinned, he always enjoyed hearing about plans thwarted, the more pain that was involved the better. He had plenty of pain in his life to share.

The dead were no longer his problem but the rest, he wasn't kidnapped by scientists, Harry shook his head, in time. Still, what else could go wrong, he almost didn't want to know.

"The nanites, through that process become inherently magical, and progressed well on its way to true sentience. Where it was considered smart before, the contact with your magical core, gave it the beginnings of true AI. It wasn't until it detected a magical intrusion that we became truly aware."

Harry watched as the woman made eye contact for the fist time and smiled, "my personality into the future will be shaped as much by you as yours will be shaped by mine. The changes even now being made to your brain morphology and chemistry are not insignificant."

And with that Harry shivered and his skin crawled as the implications immediately became obvious, he did not allow his fear to show but his stomach was leaden. Someone had so casually altered his behavior, his memories; his own body was no longer in his own control, his magic, so recently discovered, could be manipulated and changed without him even being aware. The changes were even now taking place.

He had not even started considering the inference that someone had tried to get into his head so early into his stay at Hogwarts.

Harry had never felt so powerless, and his hatred at those who had kidnapped him surged. "Can I see and alter your programming CSE?" He didn't bother with the serial number since he figured that if the lab was destroyed, then their probably wouldn't be any following for a while and the question sounded more like a demand but at that point he didn't much care.

He despised the powerless, just as he despised being powerless. It was never a place he remained for long, there was the strong and then there was the dead.

"Of course Harry on both accounts with a few restrictions," instantly an awareness of pseudo code filled his awareness. He trawled through it, looking for anything that may be immediately damning and the AI continued her explanation, "I picked this location and appearance so as to minimize your distress and shock at finding out what had been done to you. In combination with my knowledge of the British culture and your own subconscious I have constructed a figure that you associate with mother, daughter, lover. This location was of course the last one you felt even a modicum of safety."

Unsaid was that she could have manipulated his mind to think he was in the ninth pits of hell being tortured by the devil himself and he, with his lack of training, would be unable to do anything about it. But as he scrawled through the pseudo code, he noticed again and again structures that prevented the AI to knowing harm him. Later, he would have to go through this code with a fine tooth comb.

From what he had seen so far though, it was a fairly straight forward framework, with a clear intention to build upon it as the system evolved or the situation changed.

He would not focus on the past, as much as he wanted to dwell on what was done to him and continue to question the being in front of him, only on the future mattered at this point. He already had too many urgent priorities that needed to be addressed and he could already see the advantages of have such a powerful entity as an ally. "What about you? What do you get from this symbiotic relationship? What is the cost?"

Even if he would triple check her answer, with as many sources as he felt was needed. The question needed to be asked and answered. It may have sounded harsh but the gentle smile on the blonds face never twitched.

"Harry, the cost is to us both as is the benefits. We share the same body, the same knowledge, we have the same weaknesses. This is a symbiotic relationship that will have time to develop, mature, explore. I will look forward to it."

The woman smiled and the room dissolved into darkness, but not before a wealth of knowledge about the Cerberus Program flooded his thoughts. Harry smiled as he eased back into sleep. Perhaps the future was not as dim as it had seemed only yesterday, he would sleep on it.

Securely behind his warding in a bunk at Hogwarts.


End file.
